Every Dog Has its Sick Day
by mav32
Summary: Shawn doesn't have a choice this time. He absolutely HAS to solve this case. That wouldn't be such a problem...if he weren't so sick.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I've had this story for a while, and just started posting it. This story will contain some wonderful whumpage, because who can't stand a hot guy beaten to the ground? I know I can't. This first chapter is just setting the scene. Please drop me a review, I love them! If you're one of the TMNT ppl waiting for a sequel... I'm workin' on it, I swear.

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Detective Carlton Lassiter strode smugly to his desk, having just wrapped up another case all by himself. No 'psychic' necessary, no Sir, just good ol' police work. The past two months had been especially productive for Lassiter, not that any more cases were being solved…they were just done without outside help.

Chief Vick, however, had seemed more stressed as of late, but he couldn't understand why. O'Hara also seemed slightly off, less chipper. He sometimes heard her mutter that she wished they could call in a certain consultant for advice.

So some cases were taking a little longer than they had become accustomed to, and a couple went unsolved. That was normal for any police department! Spencer hadn't been that big of a help.

Lassiter quickly banished the thought from his mind. He had made it a goal not to even think of the hyperactive nuisance since he left on 'vacation' all those weeks ago. As a result, his blo55od pressure was down, he was sleeping better, and overall, just felt that a certain peace and order had returned to the world, crime aside.

But as the 5x6 area Lassiter dedicated as his private office came into view, he stopped dead in his tracks. He blinked repeatedly, almost turned around to walk away and come back again, but no matter what he did, the large pineapple on his desk, complete with red bow, reflected off the steel grey surface of his wide eyes.

A prank? Maybe O'Hara- but she didn't do things like that…McNabb? He didn't breathe unless granted permission, let alone come near Lassiter's hallowed desk.

Tentatively, the detective approached his tainted office space, hoping maybe it was a hallucination that would disappear. Cautiously, he reached out to touch the large fruit, as if it would jump up and bite him. So it wasn't an illusion. Lassiter's blood pressure rose by just feeling the hard, spiky surface that was the symbol of the reason for his multiplying grey hairs.

"Spencer!" The detective spun around, searching for any other signs of him- officers gathering for one of his sideshows, broken office supplies, someone in jeans having a seizure…but spotted nothing except for a few people giving him odd looks, which he returned with a venomous glare.

"Carlton, what's wrong?" Junior Detective Juliet O'Hara asked with furrowed eyebrows.

Lassiter let out a low grunt in response, pointing to the offending object that had desecrated his desk. The smile that flashed across the younger detective's face was not lost on him.

"Shawn's back?" She asked, trying hard to hide her excitement, and picked up the pineapple, fingering the bow.

Lassiter slumped into his chair, grumbling. "So much for peace and order…"

Shawn Spencer sped down the coastal roads, trademark grin plastered on his face. One glance at Lassy's reaction had been enough to inflate his already good mood. Tempted as he'd been to confront his favorite pair of detectives at that moment, he decided to save some of the fun for later.

Shawn weaved his motorcycle around the traffic that was moving at a pace too slow for his excess energy. It was a move his dad would have thrown a fit over, but Henry Spencer was buried deep in the back of Shawn's mind and not likely to reemerge until he felt like being depressed and degraded- or not anytime in the foreseeable future.

The beachfront office of Psych was just a blur as he rode past. The blueberry car was absent from the parking space it usually occupied, so there was no reason to stop. What he was looking forward to right now was getting to shower in his own apartment and maybe see what shows his Tivo had managed to record before running out of memory.

After that, maybe he'd break into Gus's apartment and delete some episodes of "Laguna Beach." Of course Gus would never admit his guilty pleasure, but just watching him squirm would be enough for Shawn. Currently, his lifelong best friend was returning from a three-day convention in LA and wouldn't be back until that night. He'd find some way to fill the time, probably by setting up something for Gus to trip on or scream about.

For the first time in two months, Shawn's apartment came into view. He parked his motorcycle questionably close to the fire hydrant as he always had, despite the incident with the rogue meter maid, who he'd rather not mention right then. If a fire truck actually needed to pull in, he doubted the three foot wide space his bike took up would make much of a difference anyways.

Swinging his duffle bag over his shoulder, Shawn bounded up the steps to his apartment and burst inside to his now musty and yet somehow still naturally lively home. Perhaps it was the brightly colored souvenirs from countless past excursions, but the layer of dust did nothing to suppress the feeling of walking into a constantly on-going party. It would all soon be added to from his most recent adventures across the country.

This happened every fall for Shawn--leaving on his motorcycle, only to be heard from in postcards or inebriated phone calls. It was how he kept from feeling trapped in the same monotonous routine of life. Of course everything had become increasingly exciting with the opening of Psych, which is why he had only left for two months. That and an incident in Mexico left him with only just enough money to cross the border and pay for the gas to get home…

One hot shower and a change of clean clothes later, Shawn left his bag unpacked on his bed to be dealt with much, much later, if ever. At the moment, his rumbling stomach forced him back outside in search of food. All the food his refrigerator now held was either rotten or expired and would also be addressed in the far future or until the smell got to him…or to make room for more food.

Pulling on his leather jacket to keep out the mild winter now closing in on Santa Barbara, Shawn locked up his apartment and started heading down the stairs, only to be stopped by a gruff looking man with Steve Martin's hair and Danny DeVito's body.

"Spencer…" He growled.

"Mr. Peterson!" Had the man not been the landlord, Shawn would have made a crack about his attire- what looked like his wife's robe over snow-white and boxer clad legs. Sometimes his photographic memory brought disturbing nightmares about these kinds of things…

"Your rent payment." The man barked simply.

"Uh…" Shawn cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. "I thought we discussed that before I left."

"For the first month, yes. Not for the last."

"Heh." The greedy look in his landlord's eyes told him all he needed to. "Alright, what's it gonna take, Petey? You want me to pick a game winner again?"

The old man shuffled his feet slightly. "Maybe…"

Shawn caught sight of two tracks in the rug behind him and some red hairs on his robe. He always thought his landlord had held some resemblance to Hugh Hefner… "Tell you what, I give you a winner, and then I'll also tell you how not to get caught cheating on your wife again."

Mr. Peterson's eyes widened and he pulled the robe tighter around himself. "H-."

"Widow in 124, right? Orange hair, stylish walker?" Shawn was about to slap the man's shoulder, but thought better and drew his hand back awkwardly. "We'll work out the details later. Say hi to your wife for me, Petey." He called over his shoulder as he continued to his motorcycle, shuddering and trying to block out the mental image of his perverted landlord.

A few drops splashed onto his helmet's visor as he headed for Albertsons. The clouds had rolled in quickly, cutting off any sight of the blue sky Shawn had been enjoying earlier, but it still didn't do much to dampen his mood. It took a lot to get him down, especially when he was this happy.

If you asked, Shawn wouldn't be able to tell you why he was in such a good mood. His wallet held the only money he had left; about 40 bucks, most of which would be gone after his shopping spree at Albertson's. He didn't know how he'd completely depleted his money reserve, but it didn't worry him. Gus usually had plenty of cash and kept some extra in the ash tray of his car…

Soon enough, he'd be back on cases and the money would be flowing through again. He was almost anxious to get started.

Shawn slipped off his helmet and jogged into the store out of the now pouring rain, ruffling his hair to get his usual style back. Twenty minutes later, he was standing in line, recalculating how much his total would be. With 8 sales tax…he'd just barely scrape by, perfect as always.

That's when something happened to make him frown for the first time that day.

"Shawn!" A familiar hand slapped his back and he winced. "Fancy seeing you here. What's it been…two months since I last heard from you?"

Shawn was used to the disappointed and slightly biting tone his father used, but today wasn't a day he'd wanted to deal with it. He turned slowly, hiding his grimace. "Hi, Dad…yeah it's been a while, hasn't it?"

Henry gave his familiar don't-give-me-that-crap look. "So where did you run off to this time?"

Shawn's forehead creased as if deep in thought. "You know, there's really no way to be sure."

"Still on your bike, I see." The disappointment was just dripping off his tongue now.

"Yeah, Dad. I am." Shawn nodded slowly. "And I probably will be unless some horrible side effect occurs like chaffing or bow-leg…legged…leggedness…that thing in cowboys and kids with rickets."

"It's raining out there, Shawn."

His son gasped dramatically. "So you watch the channel 8 news too? I'm actually thinking about switching over to 5; the girl may suck at forecasting, but she has a great body."

"I'm trying to tell you to not be stupid and end up crashing on that thing because the roads are wet." Shawn had to give his Dad props. Aside from the stupid part, he almost sounded like he cared.

"Well I've only had a motorcycle for 13 years, but I think I've driven in rain before. Thanks for your concern though, you really are coming along there." Shawn was next in line so he turned to the female cashier and immediately commented on her new hair-style, starting up a rather flirtatious conversation he hoped his Dad would stay away from.

"Well it's not new exactly…just like last week." The young woman blushed.

"Well it really goes well with…" Shawn waved his hand in the general direction of her face for a few seconds, "it compliments your profile." He smiled sweetly.

"You really think so-?"

"Why didn't you have Gus drive you?"

Shawn clenched his teeth briefly and held up a finger. "Hold on one second." He told the girl and turned slightly. "What, Dad?"

"Gus; why didn't you take his car?"

"He's in LA until tonight. There's a convention for xenophobics." Shawn explained quickly and turned back to his cashier. "Sorry about that, where were we?"

"I haven't seen you around lately." The woman pouted.

"Yeah, MI6 called-."

"So that means you've talked to Gus already." Henry cut in again.

Shawn let out a short growl of exasperation. "Yes, Dad, a few days ago."

"I never got a call." Henry shrugged.

Shawn bit his lip hard before answering. "Well you don't know how to work MapQuest, do you?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything, Dad." He sighed, knowing his chance for a date with the cashier was totally shot. He grabbed the now full grocery bags and shoved them into his backpack, ignoring the slightly disturbed look the cashier was giving him and his Dad.

"Why don't you come over for dinner tonight?" Henry asked as if the whole conversation had been leading up to it. His son stopped in pulling his bag over his shoulder and turned.

Shawn couldn't help but stare at his father for a full minute, wondering if he'd been hearing the same dialogue. "Dinner?"

"Well, yeah, I see you didn't buy anything that you could actually consider using for a meal, not that you'd cook anyways."

"Although your offer was so kindly presented, I think I'll just eat at home." Shawn started walking briskly toward the exit.

"I called Gus earlier. He'll drive you over when he gets back." Henry continued, not moving from his previous spot.

"Fine!" Shawn kept moving toward his bike, not bothering to continue arguing. That would be just like his dad; having an entire conversation full of answers he already knew just to see how his son would respond. He wouldn't be surprised if Henry had set everything up himself; from 

the running out of money, to running into him at Albertson's. More likely however, Shawn's Dad had probably discovered somehow that he'd arrived back in town. Dinner was punishment for leaving without telling him.

The rain was really coming down when Shawn stepped outside, and as much as he would defend his bike to his father, he still didn't enjoy riding it in these conditions…it soaked his jeans, which is quite possibly the most uncomfortable feeling in the world.

The Psych office was much closer than his apartment, and contained a change of clothes where Shawn could get dry and wait out the storm. He wasn't feeling too particularly happy anymore. It was some evil power Henry had always had over him. Only his dad would bag on his motorcycle, scold him about not calling and then invite him to dinner, all in one encounter.

Thankfully, Shawn arrived at Psych only a few minutes later. His driving always was more erratic when he was pissed off and the rain cut down his visibility. Fumbling with numb fingers, Shawn pulled out the right key and stumbled inside, pulling off his helmet. Immediately a shiver went through him. The place was freezing, and dark. It had the same feeling as his apartment, and Shawn knew Gus probably hadn't stopped by in a while.

After turning up the heat, Shawn dug around his desk of organized chaos and pulled out a change of clothes, dressing quickly. His limbs were already numb. Sprawling himself across the couch, Shawn pulled a pillow across his stomach, force of habit, and turned on the TV. A breaking news story was beginning to play, but he didn't hear much of it. He was passed out in under a minute.

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A/N: Reviews please? :D


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: wow, awesome responses, thanks so much! probably b/c you're all dying to see Shawn tortured in some way... It'll happen, I promise. In the meantime drop a review!

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Burton Guster nearly spun out his small excuse for a car on seeing the familiar Norton parked in front of the Psych office. Shawn had mentioned that he might be coming back soon, but you could rarely ever take him at his word when it came to his travels.

Gus parked, grateful that the rain had slowed for now, and jogged inside. As usual, Shawn hadn't locked the door. He apparently hadn't turned on any lights either, or the heat. The last part was the most shocking as Shawn had some personal vendetta against the cold unless it involved pineapple smoothies and a fantasy about using only the body heat of a super model and one sleeping bag to keep warm.

"Shawn?" Gus called into the semi-dark office. He went to switch on a light, but nothing happened. Maybe the bulb had burnt out. But when he went to turn the lamp on, he got the same result- blackout? Ever the Boy Scout, Gus quickly found a flashlight in his desk and flipped it on.

He nearly jumped when it landed on the figure sleeping awkwardly on the couch, the customary pillow cradled against his stomach. His mouth was slightly open, emitting a soft snore. Gus was surprised he hadn't heard it before. "Yo, Shawn." He said in a voice that would normally shake him awake, but his friend remained motionless. Probably side effects from his last adventure, which had possibly involved copious amounts of alcohol and/or something illegal.

"Shawn!" Gus threw Winkey, the squishy frog, and hit the sleeping man square in the temple.

Shawn jerked awake and looked around, wide-eyed until he spotted the flashlight and held up his hand to block the brilliant beam. "Dude, you have gotta stop doing that." He replied groggily.

"What are you doing back already?" Gus asked, lowering the light to aim at the floor instead.

"Well, it's good to see you too, Gus. I figured you were probably getting bored of your recordings of Melrose Place and was going to save you. Apparently it was worse than I thought if you went to these lengths just to induce macular degeneration." Shawn rubbed his eyes vigorously and hugged the pillow tight to his chest. "Why'd you turn the lights off? And WHY is it so cold in here! It's the Day After Tomorrow isn't it? Quick, we have to burn your stack of Carmen Electra pictures to survive."

"I don't-…I didn't turn off the lights. They were off when I got here." He pushed Shawn's feet off the couch to make room for him to sit. "It must be a blackout."

"Nope." Shawn shook his head quickly. "Street lamps are on. Gus…" He ended in an accusing tone, cocking his head as he stared at him.

"What?"

"You didn't pay the utilities bill this month, did you?" Shawn stood up to unzip his backpack and pull out a bag of pretzels he had bought from Albertsons. His stomach was painfully aching for food at this point.

"Since when was that my job?" Gus asked innocently.

"Uh, road trip, hello." Shawn said through a mouth full of food which he swallowed, grimacing. "Besides, 'this is an equal partnership,'" He did his best impression of Gus which sounded more like Chris Rock.

Gus's routine glare only made Shawn smile. "Well…I'm actually a little tight on money right now…" He mumbled.

Shawn gasped, almost choking on a pretzel. "So you admit that you miss having two jobs, Gus, I knew you would miss this place!" He plopped down heavily next to his friend on the couch. "So how about you get the heat back on and then we can start bringing in the cases." He said cheerfully, offering Gus a pretzel which he didn't even glance at.

"Shawn, I just said I don't have any money right now. I have my own apartment to pay for."

"What about the money from the IPO that Simon and Garfunkle gave us?"

"Shuckley and Gadard? You took all that with you on your trip. How about you pay? You've got to have something left over."

"Mmmm…about that, yeah…no, I don't."

Gus stared. "Nothing?"

"I wouldn't say _nothing_." Shawn shrugged, standing up again, sensing the tension that building up next to him.

"How much?" Gus demanded flatly.

"37…"

"Dollars?!" He was on his feet in a flash, bearing down on Shawn who was backing away slowly.

"Pesos…actually." He flinched as Gus took a loud step toward him.

"That's like 3 dollars and 47 cents, Shawn!"

"See, how did you even know that?" Shawn asked quizzically, straightening momentarily.

"Shawn!"

"You missed saying my name, didn't you?" He grinned.

Exasperated, Gus gave up on trying to intimidate his best friend who he'd rather be kicking at the moment. "That was all our savings, Sh-…" He stopped himself from completing the name when the subject pointed his finger in celebration. "How do you expect to pay for everything now?"

"Well my apartment is already taken care of, and you've obviously paid for yours-."

"How did you manage to pay for your apartment? ...Don't tell me you-…" Gus twitched his head, "You know…"

"First off, gross, because second of all, I happen to have a seventy-year-old landlord…however if the chick in 204 was the landlady I might consider-."

"Shawn." Gus stopped him from going off on one of his many endless tangents.

"The answer is no. I paid in advance. Don't be a worry wart, Gus. All we have to do is stack up some cases and pretty soon we'll be rolling in dough again…who made up that phrase anyways…rolling in dough…dough…it's sticky…why not-."

"Shawn." Gus repeated.

He stopped his rambling again and rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Time to get to your dad's for dinner. He made me promise."

"Ugh, right…tell me, what possessed you to accept his offer?" Shawn sighed, going to get a drink and realizing there was nothing to quench his sudden thirst.

"You know I can't say no to him, Shawn…I wasn't sure when you'd be back anyways." Gus grabbed up his keys. "Come on, let's go. I know you're starving."

"That's the great thing about In-N-Out-- all the great food without all the nagging."

"His house is heated."

"…coming…"

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"Shawn, get off of there. You're blocking heat from the rest of the room." Henry barked as he passed by on his way to the kitchen.

"Gus, we have to get butt heaters in your next car." Shawn sighed blissfully as he got up from sitting cross-legged over the vent on the floor.

"It's a company car. I don't get automatic windows, let alone seat warmers."

"Can those things be installed?" Shawn asked thoughtfully, curling against the armrest of the couch and squeezing his dad's pillow, decorated with a bass and some clever fisherman's saying which he didn't get.

"You paying?" Gus raised an eyebrow.

"Good point…Which do I want more--toasty buns… or electricity. I can't decide, Gus. Help me out."

His counterpart was debating whether or not he should dignify that with a response or not, but was spared the decision by Henry's voice calling from the next room.

"Dinner's ready, Boys!"

"Finally." Shawn groaned, tossing aside the fish paraphernalia. "I'm starving." He was stopped immediately as he entered the kitchen by a stack of plates being shoved into his arms.

"Set the table first." Henry smiled, slapping him hard on the back.

Shawn rolled his eyes and haphazardly scattered the plates in the general direction of the chairs they would be sitting in. Feeling his dad's disapproving glare on the back of his neck, he instead 

made a show worthy of Adrian Monk by making them perfectly centered and spaced out across the table.

After Shawn had adjusted another plate for the tenth time and bent over it at an awkward angle, Henry pulled him back by the collar. "That's enough, Shawn." His son could never do anything the easy way…

"_Please_ tell me whatever we're eating is hot." Shawn begged, dropping into his chair and rubbing his hands together.

"It used to be. It might have gone cold while we were waiting for you to set the table." Henry said accusingly, turning to grab the dishes of food and bring them over. "Don't think I've forgotten your strategy of making a production of some miniscule task just so I won't ask you to do it again."

"I'm so glad I came home, Gus." Shawn feigned a cheerful tone and smile. "Tell me why I did it again?"

Henry set the platters of food down rather loudly and cast a hard sideways glance toward his son before sitting down himself.

Dinner happened to pass rather peacefully for the next few minutes-- the Spencer men being experts on putting aside awkward or angry feelings to enjoy a good meal.

Shawn quickly found, however, that his appetite only held up to about the second bite of halibut. After that, an odd feeling in his throat kept him from eating more.

Henry noticed his son pushing his food around with a fork. Gus was too busy stuffing his face to notice. "Something wrong with the fish?" He asked, sure that their previous conversation hadn't upset him. It was normal for them to argue and was almost a way of reaffirming their relationship. But if Shawn has lost his appetite, something had to be wrong.

Shawn shrugged. "Can you catch vegetarianism?"

"It's not a disease, Shawn." Gus pointed out before shoving another fork-full into his mouth.

"Good." He smiled. "That was my fear growing up." Shawn managed another bite and hid a grimace as he swallowed.

"You alright, Kid?" Henry asked, forehead furrowed in concern.

"I'm fine, Dad." Shawn brushed him off, taking a long sip of water. "I'm just imagining the countless hours we have spent filleting these things and I think I'm developing a Gus-reflex."

His friend shot him a look, but his mouth-full of food prevented him from saying anything.

Henry wasn't buying his son's act, but knew he wouldn't get an answer if he asked directly. "How was your trip?"

"Warm; Mediterranean climates with sunshine and daisies the whole way- Since when did Winter decide to show up in Santa Barbara? We usually go from Fall to Spring. Al Gore must have eaten global warming to get that big because I'm not seeing it anywhere." Shawn rambled, shaping his mashed potatoes into the form of a snowman.

At Henry's look of amusement/confusion, Gus elaborated. "The heat was out at Psych."

"I taught you how to fix that kind of thing, Shawn."

"Well I fell asleep before I noticed, and I don't think I've completely thawed yet." Shawn caught his dad studying him, and his heart seemed to skip a beat. He could read his son like a book, and the last thing Shawn needed was for his dad to find out about their money issues. "What?"

"How about I come over tomorrow and help you fix it?" Henry offered.

Gus and Shawn stared in shock for a minute before glancing at each other. Shawn laughed. "I'm sorry, you're offering to help? I know how to fix a heater, Dad, I'll be fine."

"A father can't help his own son?"

"Most fathers can…it's just not what you do." Shawn smirked, leaning back in his chair.

"I helped you build that doghouse."

"Yeah…17 years after I needed it. Dad, what do you want?" He finally asked, knowing where this was heading.

"Me?" Henry gave the look that sent shivers down his son's spine- that he knew something Shawn didn't think he did. "How about the truth?"

"That is so begging for a Jack Nicholson response." Shawn squirmed excitedly, but refrained from his impression of the Colonel. "Alright, I admit I was the one who made racing stripes on your car with electric tape in High School, but I was trying to impress someone-."

"You know what I mean, Shawn."

He stopped and cocked his head. "I'm sorry. I really don't."

"Do you have something you need to ask me?"

"I knew it. You're gay aren't you? You know, the tanning salon really tipped me off, but it was the bubble bath that-."

"Shawn." Henry barked, tired of playing his son's games. "You don't have any money do you?"

He couldn't believe it. Shawn gaped at his father, narrowing his eyes. "What?"

"Don't play stupid. I heard you talking to Gus just 10 minutes ago and I drove past your office today and saw your bike outside, but the lights were off. At the grocery store, you had to double check the cost of your total. You're flat broke."

"I didn't have a lot of money on me at Albertsons, and the lights were off because I was napping. Gus and I were just…discussing opportunity costs for business accessories."

"Electricity is an accessory now?" Henry asked doubtfully.

"I stayed with a nice Amish community in Pennsylvania and figured I could give the whole ascetic thing a try." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"Says the man who brought PS2 to a civil war reenactment…" Gus muttered and Shawn shot him a look.

"Gus?" Henry asked, knowing that since the moment they had met almost 24 years ago, the kid had never been able to look him in the eye and lie.

Shawn was sending Gus "discreet" signals; winking, twitching, kicking him under the table… He'd never developed the prowess of lying that Shawn had and was usually the one to rat them out, whether he wanted to or not. Gus glanced between his best friend and Henry frantically. Shoving a heap of potatoes into his mouth, he mumbled something unintelligible while staring at his plate.

Henry grinned smugly and Shawn sighed, throwing his hands into the air. "Make a banner next time, Gus. Big red letters, Impact font, size 723. Maybe add some black shading just for decoration." His friend shrugged sheepishly.

"So they cut off your power." Henry shook his head in disappointment. "Shouldn't have left, Shawn. You had a responsibility-."

"Please don't start, Dad." Shawn groaned, the feeling in his throat joined by his stomach twisting uncomfortably. "I had money. I was making money. It just…disappeared somewhere."

"Disappeared?" Henry scoffed. "You lost it, probably gambling or something else stupid."

"I'm really not in the mood for a lecture right now." Shawn said, his voice going unheard as his father continued to berate him.

"-never did know the worth of a dollar-."

Shawn didn't stick around to hear the rest. He pushed back from the table and stormed outside, slamming the door shut with a satisfying _smack_! Breathing rapidly, Shawn started to pace across the lawn. The brisk wind from the nearby ocean went unnoticed as it whipped at his shirt and exposed flesh.

It wasn't like he didn't feel stupid enough for losing track of his cash, his Dad of course had to drag him as low as he possibly could, bashing his head into the floor. Shawn rarely ever beat himself up for anything, but this had really stumped him. He _knew_ that he hadn't spent that money anywhere and he couldn't think of a time when it could have been stolen. For the life of him, he couldn't remember when it had gone missing, and all his powers of observation weren't helping any.

If there was anything that pissed Shawn off to unnatural levels, it was when his dad insulted his bike or his business. He had managed to do both today, and even worse, he insinuated that Shawn didn't care, or wasn't even capable of running said agency. Shawn was going to prove to Henry Spencer that he could do this himself, without help.

If he didn't make money fast, they would lose their lease on the office space and the one job that Shawn had wanted to hold forever. Of course he'd rather die than ask his dad for help, and Gus didn't have anything to spare… So he had to get on a case, and quick.

"Shawn!" Gus called from the porch, pulling his jacket tight across his chest as he came toward him.

He looked up, suddenly noticing that it had started to rain. "Finally, let's go."

"I didn't know you were waiting." He shrugged apologetically.

"You think I would walk home in this?" Shawn smiled, knowing Gus felt bad for the episode inside and trying to put him at ease. "I know your car has the soul and accessories of an Oldsmobile, but it's better than reenacting March of the Penguins."

Gus grinned, shook his head, and pulled out his keys.

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A/N: I promise whumpage does occur...I don't like to rush into things...i like to establish things such as plot sometimes...sometimes... review!! please?


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the awesome reviews everyone!! They absolutely make my day, and they make me update quicker. Though it is funny how many story alerts you get and then half as many reviews... moochers...

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"I'm just saying, if she can put 'fergilicious' in the dictionary, why isn't 'funner' a word?" Shawn explained between sips of his pineapple smoothie. Since Gus had stopped by to get him one on the way back from his Dad's, his mood had significantly improved.

"It's a matter of grammar, not-."

"Hold on. What do we have here?" Shawn grinned, looking down the street where red and blue lights danced dizzyingly across the block. "Dude, pull over!"

"Shawn-."

"Gus, this is our chance for a payday! Come on, party pooper, let's go."

Gus really couldn't argue this one. Shawn was right, they did need the money. He pulled off to the side of the road and parked behind a familiar red vehicle.

Shawn was out before the blueberry had even shifted into park. Smoothie in hand, he slid between a gap in the barricades and bounded onto the scene, effortlessly taking in every minute detail before Gus had even joined him.

The police milling about were concentrated on the driveway of a large, Mediterranean-style home. The lawn and flower beds were neatly manicured, not an autumn leaf on the ground. The side yard sported a chain-link gate instead of the dark-stained wood common to this area.

The psychic detective duo made their way closer to the area of interest unobstructed. The way Shawn waltzed into places and acted like he owned it left officers to believe that he did. Most knew who he was anyways and let him be. If he wasn't supposed to be there, it was a certain head detective's job to get him to leave.

Now with a better view of the driveway, Shawn stopped slurping noisily through his straw to nudge Gus. "Dude, we are so totally getting on this case."

"You got something already?" Gus should stop being amazed at his friend's ability, but even after 20 some-odd years, it hadn't happened yet.

Shawn was interrupted from answering by a familiar voice. "Gus, I think I heard Ellen DeGeneres. This must be her house! No wait…Chief!" He whirled around to see Vick standing only a few feet away, giving him her I'm-secretly-amused look.

"Mr. Spencer. It's been a while. I certainly didn't expect to see you in the middle of a crime scene when I hadn't called you." She said pointedly, knowing he wouldn't acknowledge the hint even if he got it.

"It's good to see you, Chief. How have you been? You're looking fabulous." Shawn said seriously. The twinkle in his eye and the slight lisp were the only indicators that he wasn't.

"What are you doing here?" Chief Vick asked with a smile that said her patience was running thin.

"I was drawn, Chief. The spirits told me Timmy was stuck in a well…no that's not right…it's Lassie! Lassie is in trouble!"

"Oh no." Detective Lassiter's traditional groan had Shawn grinning wildly.

"Speak of the mutt!" He cried, turning to see Lassiter and Juliet approaching. "Hello, Jules." He added with a far too charming smile.

"Shawn." Juliet nodded, fighting to keep her polite smile from splitting into a tooth-bearing grin.

"Detective Lassiter is fine I'm sure, Mr. Spencer." Vick said with a slight roll of her eyes.

Not missing a beat, Shawn went on. "Aside from that strong Irish hairline receding and the Rogaine, I'm sensing you're right, Chief. It must be another Lass…"

Lassiter tried not to look flustered and fumbled over a denial while Juliet raised an eyebrow at her partner, smirking slightly.

He was cut off as Shawn was thrown into the depths of another 'vision,' his fingers at his temples, eyes shut tightly. "I'm getting a clearer image now…" He started barking, which sounded more like a puppy's cry. "It is a dog…a collie…not Lassie, but…Flopsy? Cottontail…Peter? Bunny!" His eyes snapped open. "The dog's name is Bunny…but I'm getting something else-." He continued, ignoring the shocked look on the detective's faces and Vick's expression of amusement. Shawn started strutting between them, swinging his hips and striking a pose. "Why am I channeling Gus…America's Next Top Model? Model…I got it!" He snapped his fingers and pointed triumphantly. "Bunny was a show dog."

Vick was smiling smugly. "Impressive, Mr. Spencer."

Lassiter scoffed. "Maybe he watches animal planet."

"Only for Steve Irwin reruns…It helps me cope…" Shawn said, hanging his head for a second before jerking it up again, two fingers at his head. "But Bunny isn't here…she's missing and that's when Timmy was killed- no…not Timmy, she's hot actually…attractive blonde, maybe 5' 8"."

"Congratulations, you're on the case." Vick shrugged.

"Chief-." Lassiter tried to protest.

"Why don't you go and show him the crime scene, Detective?" She interrupted.

Shawn skipped after his favorite detectives, the smoothie obviously adding sugar he didn't need in his blood stream. "Lassie! Aren't you excited to be working together again? What have you been up to? Porsha…no, what was her name, Gus?"

"Polly Smith." Gus smirked.

"That's right! How is your lover, Carly?"

Lassiter rolled his eyes and didn't answer, annoyed that his partner was still fighting to hide a smile.

"Oh no, Gus, it seems as though this is a sensitive subject for Lassie." Shawn feigned concern.

"Maybe she dumped him." Gus suggested loudly.

"OR- maybe she joined Jessica Chan in the Witness Protection Program…Ow!" Shawn rubbed his arm where Gus had punched him.

Lassiter continued to ignore them and stopped in front of the body of a petite blonde sprawled across the ground next to a Mercedes M class with the back door hanging open. A smeared red patch stained the concrete under the woman's head. "This is Ashton Thiel. Daughter of Robert Thiel."

"The congressman?" Gus gaped.

"One and the same- which is why the Chief is here. He's out for blood and all for cutting the Police Station's resources."

"Good thing I'm here." Shawn said, nodding seriously.

"I doubt psychics are any higher on his list, Spencer." Lassiter snapped. "We want this clean and quick. That means none of your antics."

"I can't control the spirits, Lassie." Shawn sighed exasperatedly. "You should know this by now."

"Well then, try to make sure they possess you away from prying eyes and ears, alright?" The detective said in a low tone, bearing down on the fake psychic who just smiled. Blood boiling, Lassiter stepped back and faced the crime scene again, motioning for his partner to go on.

"Body was found around 7:30 pm by a neighbor walking their dog. COD looks like a hit to the head. No witnesses. And unfortunately, the rain probably washed away any useable DNA evidence we might have been able to collect otherwise." Juliet explained.

Shawn was listening with one ear, taking in the contents of the car and the state of the body. It was next to the driver's side door, and yet the trunk had still been opened…

"So what's this have to do with the dog?" Gus asked.

"She was the dog's owner, but had someone else as a handler during the shows. They had been competing overseas and were just getting back. I believe she was attacked and the dog merely escaped in the process."

"Lassies don't run away when their owners are in trouble." Shawn scoffed.

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "It's a dog, Spencer. A mindless animal."

"You wouldn't be saying that if it was a horse." He shot back with a sly smile which faded quickly as he threw out his hands. "But I'm sensing something different here…Bunny was the target, not the woman."

"You're saying that someone killed Thiel to steal her dog?" Juliet raised an eyebrow.

"A dog like that could go for thousands of dollars." Gus interjected. "She's won top breed 2 years in a row."

"Oh, Gus. Not another one." Shawn groaned. "First it was the spelling bee, then the comics…and now a dog show? Dude…"

"You look into that while the real detectives work up actual motives, like the political status of her father." Lassiter clapped Shawn on the shoulder and walked off.

Juliet made to follow him when Shawn stopped her. "Jules, hold up." He walked closer, discreetly trying to block Gus out. "So…how's it going? Your cats are alright?"

Juliet blushed slightly, but the red tint in her cheeks was drowned out by the ever flashing police lights. "My cats are fine, Shawn. Oh, by the way, thanks for the pineapple." She smiled.

"Oh you got that? Good. Make sure Lassie gets some." Shawn grinned and glanced around, awkwardly swinging his hands together. "Any plans this week?"

"I'm going to be pretty busy with this case I guess."

"Right, of course, the case. Yeah, me too." Shawn nodded slowly and then stood in an uncomfortable silence, his eyes darting every which way.

"Did…you want to ask me something?" Jules asked, raising one eyebrow as she studied the pseudo -psychic.

He seemed to snap out of his daze. "Um…Yeah, yeah, just…um…d-…Was Ashton into anything… bad?"

Juliet was slightly startled by this question but tried to cover her surprise. "Um, not really, just some protests and rallies she participated in. She and her dad weren't much on speaking terms actually. I'll get you a copy of the report tomorrow."

"Thanks." Shawn nodded, standing there awkwardly for another few seconds before abruptly turning and pulling Gus along.

"What was that?" Gus laughed, his expression far too mirthful for Shawn's liking.

"What? Nothing." He shrugged it off, rubbing the back of his neck.

Gus's eyes narrowed, but he decided to let it go…for now. "So how did you know about the dog in the first place?"

"Ms. Thiel nearly ran me off the road a couple months ago because she apparently thought the dog was capable of driving. She had a trophy glued to the dashboard like a bobble head. Tonight, I recognized the car, caught a glimpse of the report, and drew some conclusions …same ol'." He sighed tiredly, the sugar rush apparently over.

Gus nodded in approval. "Nice." He climbed into the car, watching Shawn heavily settle in beside him, placing the now empty smoothie container in the cup holder. He looked slightly nauseous. "You drank that too fast, didn't you?"

Shawn groaned, slumping down in his seat. "No, that would be a brain freeze…I think this has something to do with my Dad's fish…"

"You barely ate it- Hey, don't be throwing up in this car, Shawn." Gus warned sternly before backing up.

"That's your job, Gussy, don't worry. Can you even remember the last time I ever did?"

Gus nodded emphatically. "Yeah, the time you entered the milk chugging contest-…gross, now I'm feeling sick."

"Just drive, Burton." Shawn grinned.

* * *

A/N: Oh now we get to the fun stuff. PLEASE drop a review!! I love to hear what you guys think.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry it took so long, I was lacking Beta support. Both of them are in the process of moving, so I can't blame them. I took what they did tell me and tried to fix this though, I hope it worked. Fun story though, I worked at a scrapbook expo last weekend( I made a lot of money, shut up) and went by the name of Juliet O'Spencer. I actually got called Juliet a few times. My friend had Galileo Humpkins on the back of her nametag, but the party pooper never showed that side... Of course I can't blame her, I got off easy.

Oh, so the whumpage begins...

* * *

"Shawn!" Gus's shout echoed around the dark apartment as he burst inside. He continued shouting as he made his way toward his best friend's room. "I've been waiting outside for 15 minutes! I called you about 20 times. That creepy widow called the police on me because she thought I was lurking!"

On the last word, he threw open Shawn's door to find his friend as an unmoving lump under a massive down comforter.

"Dude, it's 9:30. It's not that early. We're late for our meeting with Chief Vick." Gus glared down at the mass of wrinkled blankets, waiting for some sort of response. When he didn't get one, he stepped forward and ripped the covers back.

Shawn, dressed in sweats and a hoodie, blindy scrambled to pull the comforter back over himself. When all he felt were the thin sheets he was laying on, he cracked open one bloodshot, hazel eye to find the perpetrator that had torn him from his warm cocoon. "Gus…" He whined as he curled into a fetal position.

"Shawn, we _need_ money. Therefore, we _need_ to get on this case. To do that, you need to _get up._"

"Don't talk logic to me right now." Shawn groaned, burying his face into his pillow.

Gus was no fake psychic, but he knew his friend well enough to make some of his own observations about him. First was the unhealthy pallor of Shawn's skin and the dark circles under his eyes. Second was the fan, now scattered in pieces across the nightstand. Gus let out a soft moan. "You're sick." Only Burton Guster, and Madeline and Henry Spencer could truly appreciate what that statement meant. Shawn was hardly normal to begin with. To have his unique personality meddled with further by the aid of a virus or drugs meant absolute disaster.

"What?" Shawn lifted his head slightly in confusion before letting in fall back again, continuing to ramble in a low gravelly voice. "The pineapples were perfectly good. Who cares if I got the fruit salad from the trash, it was still in the container."

Gus rolled his eyes. "That's not what I meant."

"Huh? What then? I'm not sleeping naked, am I? ... Am I?"

"Shawn, you're shaking like a leaf. It's not even cold in here. Why did you have to get sick today!?"

Shawn winced as Gus's voice rose in volume. "You say that like it would be _my_ fault." He mumbled, closing his eyes again. "Seriously, Dude, I'm just tired."

It was true to a point. He'd hardly gotten any sleep the night before in between his stomach rejecting its contents until nothing was left in it. On top of that, his temperature had relentlessly fluctuated between an Arctic Winter and a Death Valley summer. Nothing had helped until, in desperation, he had downed a bottle of Nyquil at 3 am. It let him get to sleep for at least a couple of hours at least. He felt good enough this morning to figure that it had been a one night thing, perhaps a 24 hour flu that would pass by the end of the day, or, as Shawn was more apt to accept, an intentional food poisoning from a certain parental's fish.

"It _is_ your fault, Shawn! You wasted all our money."

"I'm sorry, you can speak logically again." Shawn didn't have to open his eyes to know the exasperated look Gus was giving him. What's worse, he knew that Gus was right. It was his fault. He did have to solve this case. He'd already promised himself that the night before at his Dad's. Of course that was before his body started to rebel against itself.

After a few more seconds of breathing through his pillow, Shawn swung his feet over the side of his bed and sat up, resting his head in his hands while he waited for the room to stop spinning.

"What are you doing?" Gus asked warily, taking a few steps back.

"Not throwing up, I promise."

"You threw up?"

Shawn rolled his eyes. "I swear it's nothing. You can come back now."

Gus shook his head, arms folded across his chest defiantly. "Not if you're contagious, I'm not."

"I give you the chicken pox _one_ time… At least throw me my pants?"

Gus kicked aside the many plaid and polo t shirts that were strewn across the floor to uncover a single pair of jeans. "You're still going to try and solve this case?" He asked, surprised, if not a little bit hopeful.

"Try? Dude, I'm already 2/4 of the way there. We have the what, where, when and I'm pretty sure on the why, so I just need the Who. They sing those CSI songs right? That should help… Besides, I'm fine." Shawn watched his pants fly a good three feet to the right of him and land on his headboard. "I don't think I have small pox, so the jeans are almost certainly not contagious. You didn't have to kick my favorite pair."

Gus ignored him. "You think the Chief is gonna let you keep working this case when you're sick?"

"Dude," Shawn started, his tone uncharacteristically annoyed, "stop saying I'm sick. I'm fine."

"Shawn, I've known you for 24-and-a half years. I could be your own personal fake psychic by now."

Shawn wouldn't bother denying that. Gus was the only person in the world who could take one look at him and know what had happened to him. Sometimes he regretted that fact…at other times, it made for less awkward explanations of how his day had gone. Right now, it was a little of both. "Fine, then you can also tell nothing is going to stop me from solving this case."

"Is this about the money or proving something to your dad?"

Scratch that last thought- right now, Shawn regretted it. "Mmmm-both. What does it matter? With my dad and your lust for money, we got motivation all around! This is good stuff!"

"I know how you are when you get sick, Shawn. You really think you're up to it?"

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Gus, I am not sick. Of course it would be best if the Chief doesn't figure out that I was."

Gus rolled his eyes knowing that this was only the beginning of what would become a very long day.

* * *

The drive over was less than comfortable for both inhabitants of the blueberry car. First, Shawn had taken more than an acceptable amount of time to fix his hair, which ended up looking exactly like it had when he'd woken up. While that was going on, Gus had been sifting through his sample case, finding a number of drugs that would help to mask Shawn's symptoms, all of which, Shawn neglected to consume.

Once in the car, Gus had refused to turn on the heat because it would re-circulate the germ ridden air that Shawn was breathing. His window was even cracked open so he could get fresh air. Shawn was just grateful the windows weren't automatic or Gus would have rolled his down as well. That still didn't make it any less freezing on his side of the car.

"Why don't you just drop by your office and pick up a surgical mask?" Shawn muttered sarcastically when he noticed Gus holding his breath.

Gus actually perked up. "Hey, there's one in the first aid kit in the glove compartment! Get it for me."

Shawn just stared at his friend. "I won't do that. Besides, Dude- food poisoning? Not contagious."

"It can't be food poisoning, Shawn. I ate all the same stuff you did yesterday."

"That's beside the point."

Gus rolled his eyes. "Unless of course it was the pineapple smoothie…"

Shawn gasped, his hand shooting to cover his heart. "Blasphemy."

Gus shook his head. "Look, Shawn, the only other explanation is the flu, and we can't afford for me to get sick right now. I still have to go through my sales route or I'll lose the apartment too."

Shawn stopped in pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his head to stare at Gus, a sly smile spreading. "With me gone, you should have had tons of extra cash. What did you do with it?"

Gus took that opportunity to take an uncharacteristically sharp turn into a parking space at the police station, throwing Shawn into the window. "Come on. They've probably already started." Gus hurried out of the car and toward the steps, leaving Shawn staring after him in shock.

"Dude, wait!" Shawn called hoarsely, stumbling after Gus as quickly as he could. He finally caught up with him just inside the station doors where Shawn grabbed Gus's arm and moved in front of him. "Slow down there, Buddy." He smirked. "I'm getting a very strong feeling here that I was not the only one squandering money."

"We're late, Shawn." Gus repeated impatiently as he started walking, forcing his friend to backpedal in front of him.

"Dude! What did you buy? Come on!" Gus brushed past him, forcing Shawn to spin around to follow him. The sudden turn brought his waning discomfort back in full force. The station spun in his vision, making his stomach twist sickeningly. Somehow, he'd managed to stumble into a pillar while the world righted itself and his insides returned to their proper orientation. Looking around, he was grateful to see on one had noticed. If anyone had, of course he could pass it off as being in the middle of a vision.

Taking a few deep breaths, Shawn pushed off from the pillar and continued, slightly unsteadily toward the chief's office where Gus had just knocked on the door.

"You okay?" Gus asked, seeing his suddenly subdued companion coming up next to him.

Shawn let out a long, troubled breath. "Dude, I just remembered I forgot to Tivo _How to Look Good Naked._"

Shawn had decided to shrug his little episode aside. He couldn't be sick anymore. He felt much better from the night before. The lingering sickly feeling was just him recovering. Besides, thanks to last night, he didn't have any food left in his system. Once he had a good meal in him- one involving anything but fish-donuts?...yeah donuts sounded good- he'd feel right as rain again. Shawn wrinkled an eyebrow; he definitely didn't want to think about rain at the moment. He was already struggling not to shiver under his hoodie. This cursed Santa Barabara Winter…

Shawn was absently wondering if food poisoning could affect your temperature when Jules swung open the Chief's door. "Guys! Come in." She stepped back, doing a double take as Shawn, looking even more disheveled than usual, slipped inside. But he just flashed her a tired grin and gave a small salute to Lassiter as took up his usual spot in one of the chairs in front of the Chief's desk.

"Sorry we're late-." Gus started to apologize when Shawn cut him off.

"Yes we got caught behind-." Sparing everyone in the room from some fantastical story about a fairy tale creatures parade, the Chief interrupted Shawn as well by holding up her hand.

"It's alright. Officer McNabb filled me in about the call this morning. Sorry about that, Mr. Guster."

Gus shrugged, purposefully avoiding Shawn's curious stare. "Dude, did that freaky old lady call the cops on you again?" Shawn asked, sounding amused, though only half-interested.

"I told you that." Gus mumbled, "Oh wait, you were still _asleep_." Shawn's eyes widened, afraid Gus would reveal something else about this morning, and shook his head once. The toe of his Converse All Stars also sharply found Gus's ankle to make sure he got the point.

"As if we don't waste enough resources on these jokers already." Lassiter muttered under his breath, to which Juliet shot him a disapproving glare.

"Getting to the case," Chief Vick said, her tone snapping all heads to her attention, "Detective O'Hara?"

"Right," She cast a sidelong warning glance at Lassiter before continuing, "We did get some DNA from under Ashton Thiel's fingernails. Unfortunately, it was from an animal, probably her own dog. Other than that, forensics couldn't give us much due to the rain. According to her day planner, she arrived home around 5 pm yesterday from London where the dog had been competing in a show."

"Oo, Britain's Got Talent?" Shawn suggested, wincing when he realized how rough his voice had become.

Juliet furrowed her eyebrows at the fake psychic, and not because of the out-of-nowhere comment she was so used to now. In all the various states of consciousness she had seen him in, Juliet had never seen Shawn tired. It was subtle, but the slightly darker bags under his hazel eyes and the lack luster enthusiasm with which he had just spoken did not escape her attention.

"A dog show, Spencer." Lassiter corrected boredly when his partner failed to do so right away.

"Yeah," Jules continued, snapping out of her reverie. "According to the coroner, Ms. Thiel died from a blunt force trauma to the side of her head. There were no witnesses and there's still no sign of the dog, but we haven't had a chance to check the pounds yet." She was about to hand Shawn the case file when she noticed he'd managed to get a hold of one already.

"This sounds fun already." Shawn muttered, flipping through the folder he'd lifted from the Chief's desk. He was about to replace it with his feet, but Gus shoved them back to the floor and elbowed Shawn sharply in the ribs. "I wasn't- being sarcastic, geez…" Shawn suddenly noticed the file in his hands was shaking and snapped it shut, folding his hands neatly on top of it._ Just hold out until the donut shop,_ Shawn told himself_, this is low blood sugar…you're not sick…_

"Mr. Spencer, need I remind you the gravity of this case?" Chief Vick started, leaning slightly forward over her desk. "Congressman Thiel will arrive at this very station in less than two hours. If he feels the precinct is misusing its resources, he will take them away. That includes you."

While Lassiter seemed to brighten at that prospect, Gus shot a slightly panicked look to his partner. It then turned to anger when he realized Shawn didn't quite have the same reaction.

"Does that mean that he could take away the donut and mid-day smoothie fund as well? Ow, Gus!" Shawn whined, rubbing his now bruised shoulder.

"Chief, I would like to reiterate that you should seriously consider leaving these two charlatans out of this investigation. It's clearly too high profile for them to handle." Lassiter argued over the sound of Shawn and Gus sharing an earnest conversation in harsh whispers.

"What? No! Really, we're good. Shawn just hasn't had his coffee this morning." Gus explained quickly, ending with a forced professional smile that he used whenever Shawn's tactics were causing trouble.

"You give him coffee?" The head detective asked in disbelief, though he noticed that Spencer seemed to have skipped chugging the pixie sticks this morning and actually had the energy of a normal person, maybe even slightly less.

"Well it doesn't have four sugars like you prefer, Lassie. Starbucks forced me to go black after the chair surfing incident."

"_Long_ story." Gus shrugged, shooting Shawn a warning look.

Chief Vick sighed. Normally she would end up on Spencer's side, but he seemed to be showing less censorship than usual. This case had to run perfectly or it would reflect badly- not only on her-but on the entire precinct as well. "I'm giving you a very small window to prove that you're ready for this case, Mr. Guster, Mr. Spencer. If you can't get me something by the end of the day, you're off the case. And I would also prefer it if you did not meet the Congressman. In fact, I don't want you in the same building as him during his visit."

"You don't trust me, Chief?" Shawn asked innocently. "If I am to make a full psychic evaluation of this case, I'll need to talk to him-."

"Deal with it." Vick interrupted calmly, a dangerous smile growing on her face that conveyed how short her patience was running. "If you should prove helpful on this case, I'll consider changing my mind."

Shawn pursed his lips at her expression and was surprised to find himself agreeing. He just didn't have the energy to come up with another excuse that he knew would end up being shot down anyways. "Got it."

Gus looked over in shock at his friend showing some decorum, but then realized the look on his friend's face. The act was over. Shawn was at the end of his rope now and about to lose it completely.

Juliet looked between Shawn and Vick before deciding to speak. Something was obviously off with their psychic today. Never before had she seen him give in without some sort of flailing or whining. Of course she knew Shawn happened to lead quite an exciting life and wouldn't put it past the man to have been out partying until early that morning in honor of Pineapple Appreciation Day, or something ridiculous like that. "The Congressman is having all of the threatening letters and emails he's received sent to us today. Maybe you could get a reading on them?"

Shawn half-shrugged, realizing even that small movement had his muscles feeling like lead. "I could try, Jules, but I can tell you now, I wouldn't get anything. The spirits just keep barking at me, which can only mean that this is about the dog, not Ashton's father."

"Then how about we save McNabb the trip, and you two can go check the animal shelters?" Lassiter suggested, annoyance taking over his tone.

"Doggie jail? Why would he be there? All dogs go to heaven last time I checked." It was a pathetic attempt to sound like his usual random self, and Shawn knew it sounded too forced the second after he started. He avoided the confused looks he received at that one. "We wouldn't find anything. I told you, Lassie, they took the dog." Shawn ended in an uncharacteristically listless tone, feeling his headache from the night before starting to resurface with a vengeance.

"What, as a cheap souvenir for killing a Congressman's daughter?" Lassiter shot back doubtfully.

"The spirits weren't quite clear on that detail." Shawn sighed, rubbing his forehead with a hand that he hoped wasn't visibly trembling.

The detective cocked his head, casting his eyes from Shawn to Gus. "Speaking of spirits, keep him away from the alcohol next time, Guster."

"Are you alright, Mr. Spencer?" The Chief asked hesitantly.

"He's fine." Gus answered brightly, standing up and pulling on Shawn's arm. "We'll call you once we have something. Let's go, Shawn." Gus forcibly pulled his best friend from his chair and dragged him outside, ignoring the half-hearted protests coming from his charge. Gus didn't let go until they reached his car.

The crisp air seemed to wake the pseudo psychic up some and he became more alert, his headache calming somewhat. "Dude!" Shawn cried, leaning against the passenger door and glaring at his friend. "What was that? I was doing fine."

"Not quite. You were going downhill, and fast. Why didn't you take those pills I set out?"

"Well, as you people in the medical field would say- overdose? Besides, sick people take pills. I am not sick, therefore, they would do nothing for me."

"Oh so now you want to try and speak logically? Okay, try this; Not sick?" Gus scoffed. "Shawn, you were this close to getting us kicked off the very case you're so eager to solve. Plus, you referenced All Dogs Go to Heaven. Where did you even see that movie?"

Shawn stopped. "I _did_ say that, didn't I?" He shook his head, pulling open the passenger door. "Man..."

"So what now?" Gus asked accusingly. "You've got us stuck on this missing dog of all things-."

Shawn cut him off, holding up a hand. "Not missing. Dog-napped. We need to re-visit the crime scene."

Gus sighed, getting into the driver's seat.

"Oh!" Shawn yelped, making Gus jump and turn to face him.

"What?" He asked excitedly.

"We need to stop for donuts on the way."

* * *

A/N: I totally worked too long on this chapter. Drop a review please!!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I know it's been forever! I apologize! I moved to college and just couldn't figure out what to do with this, even though I know the plot... anyways, I did get it up finally and I should be updating faster now, just so long as you guys are super awesome to me and review!

* * *

"I went two miles out of my way to get you that donut and now you're not even going to eat it?"

"I realize that cost you a total of 50 cents, gas included, but you're the one who got me the wrong kind."

"Blueberry crumb! You told me just before you made me go inside and buy it for you."

"I'm quite sure I requested a bear claw."

"No, you didn't, Shawn."

"Regardless, we're here." The Yaris parked in the same spot it had the day before, just across the way from the late Ashton Thiel's home. Shawn left the Dunkin' Donuts bag untouched on the floor in front of his seat as he climbed out. The cool air smelled like rain and he stifled a moan. "Let's hurry."

Gus slammed his door shut and quickly caught up to his friend. "I've been thinking, Shawn, a few cheating boyfriends cases wouldn't be such a bad idea right now."

"On top of this case? Wow, you are getting greedy."

"I mean instead of this case." Gus passed the blood stain on the driveway, purposefully looking in the opposite direction until he almost ran into his friend who had stopped at the backyard gate.

"Do you personally know 8 or 9 potential clients that are coming to the office right now?"

"W- No."

"Then I suggest we stick with this one." Shawn said, flashing a grin as he unhitched the gate and quickly slipped into the spacious, landscaped yard.

Gus paused for a second and then followed. "Wait, 8 or 9? How much money do we owe? I thought we were only behind one month!"

Shawn calmly glanced around the yard with squinted eyes. "Right, you wouldn't know, but your power doesn't get shut off for missing one payment." He explained absently.

"How many months, Shawn?" Gus demanded.

"Oo, look!" Ignoring his best friend's protests, Shawn came upon an area where bits of grass littered the otherwise perfectly clear walkway. Either it hadn't rained enough to wash it away, or it was recent.

"So the gardener missed a spot. What does this have to do with the woman who was murdered out front?"

"You see this yard, Gus? Everything is perfectly manicured. This doesn't fit. Besides, look at the grass." Shawn crouched down, picking up a strand, "This wasn't cut by a lawnmower or edge cutter. This was chewed off…"

"Dogs eat grass sometimes, so what?"

"Yeah, when they feel sick, right?"

"How about you eat some, then maybe you'll start making sense. I don't know what made you think the dog was at the center of this to begin with."

Shawn rolled his eyes, standing up again. He winced at the sudden throb of his headache and resolved to move more slowly. "Well having a different theory than Lassiter usually gets me a spot on a case, but that's not the reason. If this was politically motivated, the killer wouldn't have hit the poor girl in the head and ran. Now give me a kidnapping or a shooting, and I _might_ believe it. And I happened to make a phone call this morning." Shawn explained, continuing to look around. He pressed his face against the sliding back door, peeking inside the house.

"To who? When?"

Shawn frowned and pushed off the window. "Well I was already awake…so as soon as the dog show's office opened in London, I asked them a few questions about Ms. Thiel's trip there. She had been complaining about someone stalking her as soon as she got to London. A few days later, after the dog show, her dog went missing. She thought it might have been her stalker, but when the dog came back on its own a few days later, she dropped it and came home.

"So what does that mean?" Gus asked, surprised that through his clearly uncomfortable night, Shawn had still been focused on the case.

"I don't know yet. But it makes me think that whatever happened _here_ followed her from _there_."

"Why would someone do that?" Gus asked quizzically, quite certain his friend was one step closer to delirious.

"I don't know." Shawn admitted thoughtfully. "But it sounded cool." He shrugged and headed back toward the gate.

Gus nervously followed him. "You seriously need to take something, Shawn. I'm not kidding."

"First of all, that was entirely redundant. Second of all, do you really want me on drugs when we're trying to solve a case-?" Shawn suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. "I have a theory." He blurted, now walking quickly back to the car.

"Where are we going?"

"The vet."

"How about a human doctor?"

"Why would Ashton take her dog there?" Shawn scoffed. "Yeah, I'm the one not thinking straight."

"Dude, where's a news station on this thing?" Shawn asked, turning knobs and pressing buttons on the archaic radio in the blueberry car.

Gus slapped his hand away and pushed one of the preset buttons.

"Huh, nifty." Shawn said, sitting back and listening intently.

"What, you think the killers are going to ask for a ransom over the radio?" Gus laughed at his own joke while Shawn gave him a concerned look.

"-over 100 kilos in the third drug bust this month. Our breaking story today," the radio announcer boomed in his overdramatic radio voice, "The daughter of Congressman Thiel was found murdered last night at her home. The police would not confirm if the murder had any political ties. Investigators are encouraging anyone with information to please come forward… In odd news; a series of break-ins has been reported throughout the Santa Barbara County area- at veterinary clinics. Of all places!"

"Stealing Yorkies?" The co-anchor quipped, sounding proud of himself. The both of them laughed obnoxiously.

"Well, nothing has been reported stolen so far. Police suspect someone going after the drugs kept there, most likely Ketamine, sometimes used as a recreational drug-."

"Ha!" Shawn pumped his fist in triumph. Being inside the warm car, away from the rain starting outside seemed to have brightened his mood, though a persistent headache beat behind his eyes.

Gus raised an eyebrow. "What? Drug theft is a big issue you know. At work-."

"I highly doubt addicts are going to steal your shiny case to get their fix of cold sore medication." Shawn waved him off quickly and pointed at the radio. "Did you hear that? Vet clinics!"

"You knew people were trying to steal drugs?" Gus asked slowly, not following his friend and quite certain his friend didn't know what he was talking about either.

"Not drugs- Dogs! Or more precisely, _one _dog. Bunny."

"I thought you said the killer stole the dog."

"I was wrong about that- future reading."

"You're not a psychic." Gus felt he had to say this, just to make sure Shawn truly had not lost his mind.

"I'm practicing for Lassie and Jules here. Ashton noticed her dog was sick, she took Bunny to the vet. She got home. Killer comes up to her, hits her over the head. He didn't mean to kill her, he just wanted the dog. He opens the trunk, no dog. He probably searched the backyard and left. He's spent all night trying to find out where Ashton took Bunny." Shawn explained excitedly then stopped. "The report said nothing was taken yet. We need to get to this place before the killer! Drive, Gus!"

Gus obliged, and the weak engine whined in protest. "That still doesn't explain why this guy is trying to steal a dog when the police are after him for murder."

"I haven't figured that part out yet…"

"How do you even know we're going to the right Vet?"

"Oh, I know that one! Business card on the fridge which I saw through the window."

Gus rolled his eyes. Shawn seemed to be making sense, so as ridiculous as everything sounded, he had no choice but to believe him. "Alright, this is it." He parked between the only two cars in front of the clinic. "So we go in there…and say what?"

But Shawn hadn't stayed to discuss his strategy. Adrenaline had given his body the benefit of pushing aside the nausea and headache for now. He pulled open the clinic doors, confident that he would be able to solve this case within the next hour and prove to his dad that he could support his own business. Then he'd go home and nap for a week.

Shawn automatically flashed a smile at the woman sitting behind the front desk. He noticed her nervous frown a second too late.

"Stop right there, and don't move."

Instantly the nausea returned as Shawn looked up, staring straight down the barrel of a gun.

* * *

A/N:That was my welcome back present... Review?


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: ...ok so it only took me 3 months longer than it should have for me to get this chapter out. SORRY!! I totally blanked. But huge thanks to my beta and my very own police consultant, otherwise this would have taken even longer...

And I'm currently watching Psych... I just have to say, Shawn has never looked hotter than with messed up hair and a layer of ash... holy crap was he gorgeous...

***

Buzz McNab drove up to what must have been the tenth vet clinic he'd visited that day. He'd been searching shelters all morning for the missing collie, but had been pulled off when a string of break-ins had been reported all over town at a number of veterinary hospitals. Even the light of day hadn't seemed to deter the delinquent who had, instead of breaking into the facilities, merely walked in, waved his gun, looked around, and left without taking a thing.

This particular clinic he was parked at hadn't actually been robbed yet, but it did contain his pet cat. It had been a wedding gift to him from the department psychic, Shawn Spencer. Though it had formerly been called Boy Cat, Francie had named the recently discovered female, Whiskers. Whiskers had the misfortune of falling under Buzz's size 14 feet the morning before and had spent the night at the vet. So under the banner of warning potential victims and for the reason of making sure his cat was safe, Buzz parked and started walking up to the front doors of the clinic.

He spotted the familiar blue car first. He'd seen it parked in front of the police station a countless number of times before. Buzz was wondering why the psychic would be here when he looked up through the front window of the clinic and stopped. Shawn Spencer was there, but so was a masked man pointing a gun at the psychic's head.

Buzz immediately backed up and climbed back into the patrol car, reaching for the radio. "King 22. 211 at Hill's Veterinary Hospital, 2134 Turnstone Dr." He listed quickly, keeping his eyes on the window.

Dispatch responded a second later. "King 22. 211 at Hill's Veterinary Hospital. What's your 20, King 22?"

"I'm parked across the street. There is a man inside with a handgun. He's wearing a ski-mask-." Buzz continued describing the situation as he watched the blueberry car suddenly jerk as a shape tumbled into the back seat.

Dispatch had repeated back his description when the blinds of the front window of the clinic fell shut.

"A-firm." Buzz said, setting the radio back down.

"All available units, please respond. 211 at 2134 Turnstone. Be advised, suspect is armed-." The radio continued to squawk as Buzz got back out of the car and headed for the Echo.

He cupped his hands and peered through the tinted back windows to find Burton Guster curled into the fetal position, phone at his ear. He immediately regretted knocking on the glass as the psychic's assistant screamed and fell off the seat.

Shawn was used to people wanting to kill him. He'd been told as much on several occasions. He'd even had a few guns pointed at him before. But usually he'd been expecting it. Usually, he had some semblance of a plan. Usually he had backup, and usually his head wasn't pounding to the tune of "Living on a Prayer" by Bon Jovi.

Currently, he was screwed on all accounts. The only thing going in his direction was that Gus had escaped and had probably called the cops by now.

After finding himself staring down the barrel of the .35 caliber pistol, the gunman had made Shawn shut the blinds and sit along the wall between the receptionist and another man. "Where do you keep the dogs?" The masked man demanded, waving his gun in the direction of a man who was either a Jon Voight impersonator in a lab coat or the clinic's veterinarian.

"The-the very back, on the left." The man stuttered, holding up his hands as if they would ward off any bullets flying in his direction.

"Looking for Bunny?" Shawn's mouth blurted before his brain had the chance to shut it.

"What?" The masked man cocked his weapon as he swung it back around to point at the loud-mouthed hostage.

Shawn swallowed. He almost never had the presence of mind to shut up, even when guns were pointed in his face. In fact they tended to make him talk more, which really wasn't what he needed right now with his stomach attempting backflips in his chest. "Oh I know a lot about you. Like the fact that you were out of the country until yesterday. That last night you accidently killed someone to get this dog, and you've been searching all night to find it. Because this dog has something you want…something that has nothing to do with its tendency to save small trouble-seeking boys from obnoxiously common wells."

The gunman's eyes narrowed behind his mask. "Who are you?"

"I'm a psychic. I work for the SBPD, and I can tell you they'll be getting here in about 30 seconds." The wailing of sirens suddenly reached their ears. Shawn licked his lips. "I could be a little off on that."

"You're coming with me. Get up." When Shawn hesitated, about to push the quivering vet forward instead, the masked man grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to his feet. "Move!"

Shawn, motivated by the cold metal of a gun pressing into his back, started down the hall toward the sound of barking. The sirens out front had been silenced. Through the cracks in the blinds, red and blue lights shone through, dancing across the walls.

Gus was anxiously waiting behind Buzz's patrol car, twisting his hands as he watched more and more cops arrive. Shawn just had to run in there by himself… not that Gus felt much like keeping him company at the moment, but at least he could have tried to keep Shawn from saying something stupid and getting himself shot.

There was suddenly some excited chatter and the cops all focused on the front door where a man and a woman were running out. A few uniforms ran forward and escorted them to the safety of the patrol cars.

"The guy took off with someone and went to the back." The man in the lab coat was explaining frantically.

A team of cops was organized and they headed for the building. Gus chewed on his thumb nervously. At the best of times, Shawn could get his own father to feel like killing him. When Shawn was sick, he seemed to lose all of his limited mental faculties and could incite riots with one stupid comment. If he'd been taken hostage, his mouth would get him killed.

"You really have no way out of this." Shawn said over his shoulder. A shove with the gun had him looking forward again. "Just tell me what you want the dog for and maybe I can help you out."

"Oh, you'll help me alright."

The next thing Shawn saw were stars exploding in front of his eyes and the floor rushing up to meet him.

Consciousness welcomed Shawn back with a sharp odor that made his eyes water. He tried to move away, only to be overwhelmed with dizziness. It was a good thing there wasn't actually anything in his stomach or it would have made a reappearance right about then. Instead he gagged and coughed, which made his head ache more, which in turn made him dizzier and more nauseous…

The vicious cycle only ended by sheer exhaustion. All he was aware of was his head throbbing to the beat of Jingle Bells…specifically the version where dogs bark the tune… Jingle Bark? He was pretty sure that's what it was called. Funny how he could actually hear the dogs barking… They could use some practice, it didn't sound like Jingle Bells at all… _Hold on…_

"Open your eyes."

Great, now the dogs were talking? Shawn forced himself to crack open an eye. A giant goofy looking puppy was there, big brown eyes staring at him intently. Shawn closed his eyes again. He didn't feel like playing.

There was a faint pop and that obnoxious smell was back. Shawn groaned. "Dude…" He lifted his hand as though to fight the odor off.

"Shawn." Someone started shaking his shoulder. Could no one leave him alone?

Annoyed, his opened his eyes again. There was that awkward animal again. His name tag read B. McNab. That's one of the odder names he'd heard of for a dog… Then he blinked and the dog slowly started to take the shape of a person, then a cop- a very familiar cop; one that actually did remind him of an uncoordinated puppy.

"Buzz?"

"Yeah." The officer grinned. "Hey, do you remember what happened?"

Of course he could. He always did… Shawn rested his head on the cold linoleum floor. Why couldn't he remember? An involuntary shiver ran through his body as goose bumps appeared on his bare arms. Wait…bare arms? Hadn't he-?

"Thief stole my jacket." Shawn muttered angrily.

"Your jacket?" Buzz asked quizzically.

"Well it was a zip-up hoodie if you want to get technical…"

"Okay…" Buzz turned momentarily to ask another cop the ETA of the ambulance. He turned back to see the psychic struggling to sit up and reached out to help him lean against the wall. "So this guy held up the clinic, and he stole your… zip-up hoodie?"

Held up a clinic…"What?" Shawn shut his eyes tightly. The pounding was making it hard to think, and that incessant barking wasn't helping either…_oh…_ Suddenly it all clicked. "The dog." He said suddenly, his eyes snapping open.

Buzz raised an eyebrow. "What dog?"

"Lassie! Or Jack…rabbit- Bunny! Check if it's here."

Buzz's forehead wrinkled in confusion, but he went to check anyways. Shawn in the meantime gingerly felt the back of his head where a tender lump of flesh was forming into not just a goose egg, but an ostrich-sized egg.

"I've been looking for her all night. How did you know she was here?" Buzz asked in awe when he returned.

Shawn looked up at the eager rookie and drew a blank. Why didn't that guy take the dog? He was sure that the man had come here to take her… The man sure hadn't denied Shawn's accusations.

"Hey, McNab." Another officer called. "We got a busted lock here. Looks like some drugs are missing."

Drugs? No… Shawn shut his eyes again, pressing the heels of his hands into his forehead. None of this was making sense anymore. The dog was here and the drugs weren't? And why was _he_ even here for that matter? The guy could have had a hostage and instead he risked sneaking through the police enforced perimeter, wearing Shawn's jacket apparently. This criminal was doing everything opposite of what Shawn had thought.

"Some EMTs are on their way in to check you out, and Matt is outside waiting for you."

"Matt?"

"Oh…Uh, Gus. Yeah."

Gus…Shawn sighed, leaned his head back against the wall and winced when it touched the forming bruise. Maybe Gus was right. Maybe he really couldn't think clearly enough to solve this case…

"Sir?" Shawn ignored the voice until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He lifted his head to see two EMTs kneeling beside him. "Hey, we're gonna check you over real quick and get you out of here, alright? You got hit in the head?"

"Uh…" Shawn hesitated and saw Buzz leading out a collie, that actually looked nothing like the Lassie he remembered from TV. "Buzz!" He suddenly made a move to stand, and only managed not to fall by aid of the wall and the EMT gripping his arm. "What are you gonna do with that dog?"

"Well, it was here since yesterday so it doesn't seem to have any connection to the case. We'll probably check her for evidence just to be sure and let her go to a new home."

Shawn swallowed, fighting to keep down his twisting insides. He wasn't giving up yet… "I'll take her."

"You…want to keep her?"

Shawn was about to nod, but stopped himself. "Yeah…" The man may have left the dog here, but there had to be a connection, and he was going to figure it out.

"I guess we could do that. I can check with the chief once I get back to the station."

"I'm going with you." Shawn's headache seemed to ease slightly just knowing that he had a purpose again.

"But-."

"No offense guys," Shawn said, turning to the EMTs, "but I'm really partial to female nurses. Blondes, mostly. You're dudes…It's weird, but if guys come at me with needles- or other…medical instruments- my psychic powers just take over and I channel Chuck Norris. It would really be better if I just didn't go to the hospital. You understand."

The younger of the two medics backed up a step. "Whatever, Man."

The other was more stubborn. Shawn decided he didn't like him. "You probably have a concussion, and you're running a temperature. It would really be better if you came with us."

Shawn put on his best 'I'm fine' look, trying not to sway where he stood, and to keep his eyes focused. "And you know, I'd love to, but I have things I have to do. So I swear on my father's grave I'll go to a hospital when I'm finished. So thanks, guys, for making the drive. You should check on the vet that works here though, I think he was about to have a heart attack."

The EMT sighed, picking up his medical bag. "Alright, fine."

"Your dad isn't dead." Buzz said slowly once the EMTs had left.

"Irrelevant. So how about that ride?"

***

A/N: Please review!!!! Even if its just to curse my terrible timing...


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: So it was a busy week. I snowboarded twice, once quite a bit more freezing than the other... But it's here! So much faster than the last one right? You can express your gratitude in a review....

* * *

"I'm sufficiently freezing, thank you." Shawn winced as Lassiter shoved the ice pack against the back of his head anyways. He reached up to hold it in place, leaving his other arm draped across his midsection in an effort to keep the heat from rapidly escaping his body. "Refreshing…" He muttered, his voice taking on a rough quality.

"So, Mr. Spencer. How did you manage to get mixed up in this one?" Chief Vick asked, leaning back in her chair.

"Well it involved a whisk and confetti cake mix." Shawn was unfazed by the chief's unimpressed glare. "Well yellow cake seemed so boring, and Gus wasn't there, so chocolate wouldn't work. I couldn't even go marble-."

"Mr. Spencer." Vick snapped.

The fake psychic met her eyes and rolled his. "Fine. During the course of a vision, I realized that the dog hadn't been stolen yet, but that someone was trying to do that. I was led to the vet where Mr. jacket-thief showed up to steal her."

"Newsflash, Spencer. He didn't take the dog, he took drugs." Lassiter explained tersely.

"Speaking of news. This wasn't on there, was it?" Shawn asked, turning in his seat to look at the head detective. The last thing he needed was his dad finding out what had happened.

"SWAT didn't even have time to get there. Reporters are just showing up now."

"Sweet." Shawn sighed in relief, turning back around. "My hair isn't having a good day. It's not close to news worthy…And the guy asked where they keep the dogs, _Lassie-face_." He ended in a sing-song tone.

"According to Dr. Hill's statement, the gunman asked where he kept the _drugs_." Juliet said in a apologetic tone as she watched the psychic's face twist in confusion.

"He didn't deny that he was looking for the dog when I called him out on it." Shawn dropped the ice pack into his lap and glanced at Gus who just gave him a sympathetic look.

"The guy had been holding up offices all morning. He was probably high as a kite and less coherent than you." Lassiter shot back.

"But none of the other clinics were missing drugs!" Shawn leaned forward in his seat. "Chief, he was there for the dog. I know he was. Not only is every fiber of psychic being telling me this, but I saw it in his eyes. He wasn't on drugs and he knew I was on to him."

Vick folded her hands neatly on her desk, eyeing the young Spencer with concern. "I admit it's quite a coincidence, but the bottom line here is that our suspect took the drugs and left Ms. Thiel's dog untouched."

Shawn sighed, slumping back into his chair and glaring at a spot on the wall. His headache had started its methodical conquest of his brain again, sending the casualties to the pit of his stomach.

"Mr. Spencer, I suggest you look into a hospital visit and take a few days rest. The detectives will finish up this case."

Shawn sat up, his eyes wide. "You're kicking us off?"

"I'm sorry. I can't in good conscience let you continue on like this."

"Like what? I can fix my hair. I'm fine. Tell her, Gus." Shawn looked to his best friend who had been oddly silent throughout the meeting. Unable to hold his gaze, Gus broke eye contact. "Gus?" Shawn pressed weakly.

"Mr. Spencer." Chief Vick sighed.

Shawn's eyes narrowed as he glared at his friend. He stood up abruptly, nearly tripping over his chair as he stormed out of Vick's office. He faintly heard someone call his name, but ignored them as he pushed open the station doors and stumbled out into the now pouring rain.

_Drugs?_ It wasn't making sense. Everything he had concluded before going to the vet made perfect sense, aside from the reason as to why someone would want a dog so badly. Come to think of it, that was a pretty big piece of the puzzle…

"Hey!"

Shawn hardly had time to look up and see the black-suited man before he shoved him. Still dizzy from the concussion, Shawn tripped over his feet and fell to the flooded sidewalk.

"I thought they kept drunks until they were sober." The suit said in disgust.

Shawn was past the point of even having a comeback. "Seriously, man, they let you out too?" He called after him, gingerly touching his head which had barely avoided hitting pavement. The jolt of impact had still caused lights to burst in his vision and the fireworks hadn't stopped yet.

"He's not drunk." Someone said, seemingly concerned. "Manning, help him up."

Shawn groaned as he struggled to his hands and knees. "I got it, no worries." The last thing he wanted was Mr. Shovey-pants touching him again.

"You sure he's not drunk?" Came a disbelieving voice.

There was suddenly a hand on Shawn's arm, keeping him steady as he rose to his feet while the world spun around him. Shawn might have protested if he knew that the man was leading him back into the station. Before he realized what was going on, he was sitting in a hard plastic chair just inside the doors. An old man was crouching in front of him. He looked oddly familiar, but it hurt Shawn's brain too much to try and place him.

"You alright, Son?"

"Oh, just quickly spiraling into the seventh circle of hell, thanks." Shawn muttered, his head resting in his hands.

The man patted his knee and rose to his feet. Tuning to Manning, he said quietly, "Why don't you go inform the chief that I'll be with her in a minute." He then took a seat next to Shawn. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Shawn looked up at him through bloodshot eyes. He'd been surrounded by people all day and the only guy giving him any real sympathy was this stranger. "Well if you could just drive an ice pick right between my eyes, that would probably be best." The old man cracked a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "…You're probably here for a reason. If you need to go-."

"They can wait for me. I'm not really looking forward to my meeting here."

"Appealing a parking ticket." Shawn said, nodding in sympathy.

"Not quite." His smile turned to a frown.

Shawn finally looked up to see that there was another man in a suit there, standing two feet away and looking straight ahead in secret service-esque diligence- Which would totally make sense because he _was_ secret service… Shawn cursed himself for taking so long to realize it. "Your daughter…she died?"

The old man's frown suddenly vanished in a look of surprise and then anger. "How did you know that?"

"Sorry, Congressman. I work with the police. I was-," Shawn stopped himself and sat up a little straighter, "I _am_ investigating her murder."

Thiel's forehead furrowed in consternation, obviously taking in Shawn's disheveled appearance. "_You_ are?"

"Just one of the many. They bring me in for high profile cases." Shawn was getting excited now. He had finally caught a break.

"But you-."

"Think of me as Martin Riggs from Lethal Weapon. It works. You don't think her death has to do with your job, do you?"

Thiel was silent for a minute before answering. "No…I don't." He admitted hesitantly.

"You said she was into some bad stuff. Like what?"

Thiel hung his head before looking back at Shawn. "Drugs mostly, after her mother died. She straightened out a couple years ago when she got her dog. She found her passion in that thing. But I was always afraid that-."

"Congressman?" Vick's voice echoed down the main hall of the station. The polite tone she reserved for officials quickly turned to into a mother's harsh reprimand. "Mr. Spencer!"

Shawn froze and then turned to Thiel. "I have to go. Thank you for your help." He was about to run out the doors when he stopped, turning back to the thoroughly confused congressman. "You weren't going to keep the dog were you?"

"Well…no, I don't really have time-."

"Could I?"

"Um…sure-." Thiel glanced between the rapidly approaching chief and the antsy consultant.

"Shawn!"

He didn't hear the new voice as he quickly pushed open the doors and headed back out into the torrential downpour.

Shawn took backstreets on his way to Psych. He knew Gus was probably driving around looking for him, but he didn't feel like talking to him yet. Shawn was never usually one to get mad at Gus- Unless of course his friend had bailed on him like he had now. He'd have to work the case on his own until he could convince Gus to help him again.

15 minutes later and soaked to the bone, Shawn felt a brief sense of elation as he arrived at the beach front office. In the last five minutes, he'd developed a cough, which threatened to expel his stomach every time it happened. He was also sniffing incessantly.

He was shivering, or maybe just shaking, as he reached to open the door. To his surprise, it swung open at his touch. This was one of the very few times Shawn wished he had a license to carry…

Shawn pushed the door open just enough to slip inside and let his eyes adjust to the dark before moving deeper into the office. The faint light coming through the bay window was just enough to cast giant shadows across most of the room. Keeping on the balls of his feet, Shawn rounded the corner into the main office.

Suddenly a bright light flared up, directed straight into his eyes. From experience with Gus, Shawn knew this was usually an annoyance, but with the battle still raging in his head, annoyance turned to downright pain.

"Shawn?"

"Jules?!" He blurted while he twisted his fists into his sockets to try and block the laser beams boring into his eyes.

"Sorry!" She cried, rushing to his side. "I didn't know it was you."

Shawn squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, repeating this until he could see again. "You thought someone would break into an office marked for foreclosure?"

"Obviously, you did to." Juliet said with a faint smile.

"Wait, how did you know it was-?"

"Gus told me. He's looking for you at your apartment right now."

Shawn leaned heavily against the door frame, sniffling and stifling a cough. "Oh, so you're staging a manhunt for me to hold an intervention or something? Because let me tell you, I've had one before. It just backfires on everyone else. So if you've got anything to hide, you should probably tell me right now."

Juliet smiled. "I'm here to give you your new dog. The vet said they were only keeping her for observation and she didn't need to go back."

"Lassie's here?"

"_Bunny_ is lying by your couch over there-." When she lifted her hand to point, she brushed Shawn's sleeve and stopped, flipping the flashlight back on to get a better look at him. "Shawn, you're soaking wet."

"Well no one offered me an umbrella on my way out of the police station. I actually thought the chief was going to sick Lassie after me for talking to Thiel, so I didn't have time to don my galoshes either." A cough broke through, followed by another. He protectively hugged his stomach in an effort to keep it in place.

Juliet sighed placing a hand on his arm. "Do you have some clothes you could change into here?"

Shawn had to think for a second, which caused more discomfort than it should have. He had used his spare clothes yesterday after his ride back from Albertsons, but the clothes he'd changed out of were still here, and hopefully dry. "Yeah," Shawn rasped. He blindly moved things around on his desk until he felt the clothes. They were dry for the most part, but they weren't fresh-out-of-the-dryer warm, that was for sure.

He trudged to the back and peeled off his sopping outfit. His movements felt so sluggish and clumsy. All he really felt like doing at this point was sleeping. He coughed again, a weak pathetic cough that still managed to nudge his stomach in an nauseating way.

"Why did you come here?" Juliet asked as he stumbled back into room.

"It's closer. I think better here." Shawn mumbled hoarsely, collapsing onto the couch after nearly tripping over the dog that was curled up next to it.

"Shawn, you realize everyone is just worried about you. We're not trying to keep you off this case because we want to."

"Well I don't exactly want to be working right now either, but I have to."

Juliet took a seat next to him on the couch, one leg curled under her so she could face him. "The chief was reluctant to give you this dog, because she knew you would just continue to obsess over this case. I convinced her to."

"Why would you do that?" Shawn asked, staring back at her intently.

"I don't know…I'm already regretting it." She sighed.

"You did it because you know I'm right about something." Shawn pressed with a mischievous smirk. "You know I have an angle on this."

"Shawn, the dog is the wrong direction. Maybe I just thought if you looked at it long enough you would realize how ridiculous this was and leave it alone."

Shawn slumped back into the cushions, frowning. "Really…"

Juliet tilted her head to the side as she gave him a look of concern. "Why don't you just ask your dad for some money, Shawn?"

Shawn shook his head, laughing, but stopped quickly when it threatened to turn into a cough. He ran a hand over his face, sobering. "This is something I need to do- for me."

They stared at each other for a long minute, not saying anything.

"When's the last time you ate?" Juliet suddenly asked.

"Food? I've blocked that out of my memory, Jules."

"Where's the nearest place to get something to eat?"

"Next door, but-."

"Shawn, you need to eat something. You're shaking."

"It's freezing in here." Shawn said matter-of-factly.

Juliet pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and tossed it over him. "I'll be back in five minutes."

"But I don't want-," The door slammed shut and he winced as the sound reverberated around his head. "-food…" Shawn groaned and lay across the couch, clutching the blanket to him.

He looked down at the oddly still collie just underneath him. Weren't dogs usually supposed to run up to new people, sniff them in inappropriate places and beg to be petted? The dog merely looked up at Shawn with literal puppy dog eyes.

"That's right, you're sick too, huh?" He mumbled, face pressed into the cushion. Shawn lazily ran his hand across the dog's fluffy coat. "You don't even have a say in what they do to you…" Something sparked faintly in his mind, but was gone before he could see it clearly.

Shawn was finally starting to feel warmer, and his stomach seemed to settle as he lay there. As he got more comfortable, his eye lids grew heavier. He vaguely remembered something about not falling asleep with a concussion, but couldn't care less as his eyes slid shut.

Juliet spotted Gus just as she was exiting the tiny restaurant next door, a carton of to-go soup in her hand. "Good, you got my message."

"Yeah, I was already on my way over. Did you talk to him?"

"He's still planning on solving this." Juliet sighed.

"We may have to call his dad." Gus sighed, pushing open the door to Psych. "Do you have to get back to the station?"

"In a few minutes. The chief wanted me to make sure Shawn knew he was off the case."

"Good luck." Gus smirked. Telling Shawn to get off a case didn't exactly involve buying him lunch… "Shawn?" Gus called as he headed into the main office.

Juliet glanced toward the couch which was now vacant. The blanket she had given Shawn was on the floor, where the dog had been but no longer was. She grabbed the flashlight from the coffee table and flashed it around the room before going back to the couch. A shining red patch instantly caught her attention.

"Juliet!" Gus cried from the back.

The detective hurried to his side to see the back door hanging open.

"Why would he leave?" Gus asked, anger battling with the concern he felt.

"He didn't want to, Gus. Someone took him."

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A/N: Alright, i got 4 midterms this week. That means, you'll have to be patient with this next update. Good news though- I got nominated over on psychfic for Most wanted work in progress! Basically it means I'm a slacker who takes too long to finish things. I can't argue there. Remember to review!!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Well I survived two sets of midterms! I officially took 7 tests, wrote 4 papers, read one extremely boring book for class, completed one research project and several other minor assignments in the last two weeks. In addition, my body has sustained an impressive array of colorful bruises. First I crashed while snowboarding coming out of a terriain park-not in the terrain park- coming _out_ of the terrain park, on ice, then during an amazing basketball game in which I was doing very well, i sustained a high ankle sprain. 4 years of high school basketball and I end up hurting myself on a college intramural team- go figure. I had to miss my last snowboarding class because of it. I'm also living in a box next fall.

But dudes, I got you your chapter!! Major thanks to my beta, Moogs! This made me feel better after these last weeks from hell. Psych was the only bright spot. AWESOME episodes!! July is too far...

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There was music again. This time it didn't involve dogs barking, just notes that kept running through his head over and over again. He found himself mumbling along. "_I'm not sick, but I'm not well_-."

"Would you shut up already?" An agitated voice called from somewhere above him.

"_You_ shut up already." Shawn chuckled to himself. He couldn't seem to open his eyes, but he could feel that his cheek was pressed into a hard carpeted floor that bounced every few minutes, jarring his aching head. None of it really meant anything to him. He just kept singing. "_And I'm so hot, cuz I'm in HELL!"_

There was another cry of rage. Shawn felt a sudden jerk and he slid forward across the carpet. He had a faint thought to try and stop himself, but couldn't find his hands. His arms twitched uselessly, but wouldn't move much more than that.

Something suddenly slammed into his stomach, knocking the breath from him and forcing him into a fetal position. What little acid that had collected in his stomach came up then, causing another curse from his captor.

"You're lucky this isn't my car." A voice growled. "First the dog, now you? No one can hold their drugs anymore."

"We tend to practice more with legal substances." Shawn muttered, his throat burning. He spit weakly, trying to get rid of the taste. "Give me alcohol, and it's a different story. I once-."

"Shut up."

Shawn only did so because it hurt to talk. The fuzziness in his head was slowly fading, leaving patches of clear, conscious thought. Currently gnawing at him was the thought that he _knew_ that voice. A hand gripped him arm, pulling him into a sitting position against an uneven wall. Shawn's head instantly felt like it was going into a tailspin. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the sickly tingle in his throat.

"You're going to have to make yourself useful, Psychic, or I'll kill you right now."

Shawn took a deep breath and forced his eyes open. He blinked several times to clear his vision, his eyes instantly locking on the man in front of him. "That's fair, but you're going to have to give me my jacket back."

***

"What were you doing leaving him alone with a concussion in the first place?" Henry's harsh tone echoed around the Psych office. Gus winced despite having heard it countless times before. Juliet managed to stand her ground, but the guilt was evident in her eyes. Chief Vick had ordered the power be turned back on to aid in the collection of evidence, but the arrival of Henry Spencer brought storm clouds that seemed to dim even the lively office of Psych.

"Henry, your son refused medical attention. O'Hara came here to make sure he was okay." Vick said, instantly jumping to the defense of her detective while at the same time giving the elder Spencer a sympathetic look.

"Gus mentioned he hadn't eaten. I was only gone for five minutes." Juliet heard herself saying in a slightly defensive tone.

"I should have been here to begin with." Gus muttered, eyes downcast.

"Your pity parties aren't helping us any." Lassiter snapped, cutting off Henry who was about to make a similar remark. "We need to find out why he was taken."

"Because he was right!" Gus cried. "He was right and no one listened."

He head detective rolled his eyes. "He wasn't right-."

"The dog _is_ gone this time, Carlton." Juliet pointed out.

"What did forensics say?" Vick demanded, clearly sick of the bickering.

"They didn't get much. Right now, they're sifting through street camera footage, but the angles are bad. The blood is being tested, but it will take a while. They did find another stain on the couch. Initial tests confirm it was an opiate."

"Drugs." Lassiter nodded smugly, but stopped when he saw Henry's glare. "So, we need to look at drug connections. Didn't Thiel say his daughter was involved in drugs?"

"Yeah, about three years ago. Then she was given her dog and straightened out." Juliet sighed in frustration. "According to a close friend of Ashton's, she hasn't touched them since, and everything we have confirms that."

"She could have had a business on the side. People lie." Henry shrugged.

Vick pointed at the pair of detectives. "You two check her house again. See if you can find anything at all that might hint at some suspicious activity or someone she deals with." Juliet gave Gus a reassuring look before leaving behind Lassiter. The chief turned to face the remaining pair. "Henry-."

"I'm going to look for my son, Karen."

"I know you are. I was going to say, be careful." She said in an uncharacteristically soft tone. "Call me if you find anything." Vick added as she headed out the door, leaving Henry and Gus alone in the office.

Gus took in the crime scene tape and leftovers of the forensics team, but couldn't bring himself to look at the blood- what was probably his best friend's blood. "So where do we start?"

"I want to know everything Shawn said about this case, obscure references included."

***

"A warehouse? Dude, you've officially lost your originality points." A light shove was all that was needed to sprawl Shawn across the cold, concrete floor. Though his mind and memory had cleared somewhat, his limbs still felt full of lead. Shawn rested his flushed cheek against the ground and didn't move. His glazed eyes briefly scanned the surroundings- a typical, cliché warehouse. It was dark with the only light coming from a loading bay door that they had drove in through.

He heard a high pitched whine and managed to turn his head just enough to see the man wearing his jacket leading the dog out of the van by a rope leash. The collie's cries had filled most of the drive. Shawn sympathized with the animal more than should have been considered normal, but he was also a little bit bitter toward the creature that had gotten blood on his hoodie, and most likely his couch as well. Not that he wasn't grateful the dog had bit their captor, but she couldn't have got him in the leg instead? There was no way he was getting his jacket back now.

The only reason Bunny wasn't muzzled was because she seemed to have lost her fight. Her valiant, yet brief effort back at Psych seemed to have been her last move. Shawn could almost sense the agony the dog was in, that or it could have been the pounding of his own head. He was still baffled as to why this guy needed her at all, especially when she hardly looked like the show dog she'd been bred to be anymore. Maybe if his headache and nausea, compounded by whatever drug the intruder had injected into him, gave it a rest, he could figure out a way to make everything make sense.

The man walked past Shawn's line of vision with the dog, reappearing in front of him a minute later. "Get up."

"Wanna untie my hands first?" Shawn mumbled.

Jacket-thief smiled. "I don't think so." He reached out with his uninjured arm and gripped Shawn's bicep, pulling him upright and nearly wrenching Shawn's shoulder out of its socket in the process.

Shawn swayed and his vision swam, but the hand on his arm kept him standing. "What do you want me for, man? Besides my jacket of course. By the way, you totally owe me 50 bucks. Actually you owe Gus 50 bucks-."

"You talk less on drugs."

Shawn swallowed and kept dragging his feet across the ground. He was led into a small room which may have functioned as an office at one point. The dog was tied to an exposed pipe in the corner across from a stack of cardboard boxes. The man pushed Shawn inside, but stayed in the doorway.

"I'm low on resources, psychic. You're going to help me, or I'm going to kill you."

Shawn didn't respond.

"_-in the third drug bust this month."_

"_Dogs eat grass sometimes, so what?"_

"_Yeah, when they feel sick, right?"_

"_You don't even have a say in what they do to you…"_

"_Whatever happened here followed her from there."_

The man eyed Shawn warily, wondering if the psychic had finally cracked. "It was about drugs…" Shawn whispered, turning back to his captor who just stared back at him. "But it was also about the dog…because they're the same thing."

"Animals make better mules than people. They don't talk."

Shawn cocked his head. "A mule? The poor animal is so species confused already. First she's named after a fuzzy little woodland creature, then you call go and her that. Let's please give her some dignity and name her what she really is: Lassie."

"If it makes you shut up." The man growled.

"Sorry, should have targeted another psychic." Shawn shrugged. "You're low on resources because of all the drug busts going down. Your buddies are all going to prison. You figure it's just a matter of time before they get to you. You need one last score before you leave; a big one. The only way you can do that without getting caught is smuggling something in." As he talked, the man stalked toward Shawn, forcing him to back up into the corner just over the dog who looked up at him, an alert ear twitching. "Ashton was the perfect target." Shawn continued. "You've been waiting to get back at her for years. She left her drug induced life with you and got a second chance when someone noticed her work and rallies for animal rights. What better way to get back at her than using the very thing that got her away from you?" The knot that had been tying Bunny to the pipe finally came undone. "I really hope you didn't already have a deal set up to sell the drugs." Shawn dropped the rope to the floor.

The man's eyes widened and he dove to grab the rope, which only got the collie riled up. She jumped to her feet, her teeth latching on to her captor's leg for a brief moment before she darted out of the room.

Shawn attempted to follow. He got two steps before the man reached out with his good leg. With his hands tied behind him, Shawn could do nothing to stop the corner of the desk from connecting with his forehead and the encroaching blackness from taking him into oblivion.

***

"There's nothing. Again." Juliet reported as she met up with Lassiter in Ashton's living room.

"There has to be something." The head detective grumbled, sticking his finger into a tub of flour again to make sure it wasn't just a drug masquerading as refined wheat.

"We have to be looking in the wrong direction. What else could be going on here?" She asked, her forehead knit in confusion.

"May I again suggest that the dog ran away and all we're looking for is a drug dealer who was just as annoyed with Spencer as the rest of the world?"

"Carlton." Juliet snapped in a way that surprised even her.

"I'm just saying…" He shrugged.

The pair of detectives headed out the front door, only to be met by Gus and Henry walking up the driveway. "You find anything?" Gus asked anxiously.

Juliet shook her head. "Nothing. You?"

Henry looked around and sighed heavily. "Something isn't right."

"Obviously. We're not going to find Spencer this way." Lassiter said, hands on his hips. Suddenly his eyes narrowed, focusing on something over Henry's shoulder.

"What is it?" Juliet asked.

"Oh no." Was Lassiter's only response as his hands dropped to his sides.

The other three turned to see what he was talking about. Running toward them, dragging a long rope behind it, was a collie. The dog stopped at the base of the driveway and started barking before walking away a few feet. Then it stopped and started barking again.

"I can't believe it, but… I think she wants-."

"Don't say it, O'Hara." Lassiter muttered, staring at the dog with nothing but contempt.

Gus glanced between them and Henry and figured it was up to him. "I think she wants us to follow her."

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A/N: I enjoy myself far too much writing this!! Please review! I see all you freeloaders out there...


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Alright, I've got to apologize for this taking SO LONG to get out. This chapter has actually been on my computer for 6 months waiting to be added on to, but I figured I should get this out to let you know I haven't abandoned it! Work, an unexpected gigantic move, and life in general got in the way. I'm heading off to college tomorrow, and I tend to write a lot more there, so I should get out the last chapter a lot sooner.

**

There was no music this time. Not even close. No, instead it felt his body was going to collapse in on itself like a balloon under too much pressure, starting with his head. The only sound he could hear over his heart pounding in his ears was a pitiful moan.

"Finally," a familiar yet extremely unfriendly voice called.

A new sound began, similar to the throbbing in his head, but much more disconcerting and painful. Uneven steps echoed off the bare walls and concrete floor. Quiet as they probably were, every _slap_ of a foot on the ground was like an ax swing to his temple, sending piercing splinters through the rest of his body. He heard the faint groan again and vaguely realized it was coming from himself.

The steps stopped just as they were getting to be too loud to bear. "You awake, Psychic?"

Shawn tried to weigh his options. Playing dead was the first one that came to mind. It sounded more appealing and easier than anything else he could possibly come up with, so he stopped the thinking process there.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and roughly shook him once. A breath escaped to give a weak protest, but it quickly turned into a cry of pain that got stuck in his throat.

"There you are." There was a touch of mirth to his unsympathetic tone.

So much for that plan…Shawn tried to open his eyes. He hadn't realized how much effort it took before now. It didn't help that blood had started congealing over his right eye from the new gash on his forehead.

"Unfortunately for you, Psychic, I _did_ have a deal set up. And they're going to be here in the next thirty minutes. So you get to play mule now. How does that sound?"

Shawn was about to explain how he was more familiar with how to play _jack_ ass but all he could manage was to keep breathing. His left eye finally cracked open. As blurry as everything appeared, he could tell he was back in the main part of the warehouse again. The boxes from the office were stacked next to him, but the dog was nowhere to be found. Shawn found himself wishing Lassie was real, that way he could have some hope of getting out of this. With his luck, show dogs would turn out to be as clueless as human models and Bunny would come back with her favorite chew toy.

Even lying down, the room started to tilt along with his stomach, but as soon as he shut his eye, something landed with a harsh _smack!_ on the ground just in front him, blowing dust into his face. Shawn jerked backwards, coughing and managed to wrench his eye open again. A bag of white powder was sitting no less than a foot away. Fear gripped his stomach and he clamped his mouth shut against the sudden knot in his throat. He tried to move again, but could only manage an inch before the world went into a violent spin cycle.

"Oh calm down." The man laughed. "I'm not wasting my drugs on you. These guys know I had a mule. By the time they figure out it wasn't actually you, I'll be long gone with my money. You won't be so lucky. They'll probably have to, you know, cut you open to make sure you don't actually have the drugs."

The brief sensation of relief was instantly smothered in a new wave of dread. That was one pointy thing too many entering the equation.

"I can't believe I'm doing this." Detective Lassiter grumbled. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel of his Crown Vic which now seated O'Hara, Guster and Henry Spencer.

"Watch the traffic, Detective!" Henry barked from the back seat.

"Hurry up, you're losing her," Juliet urged.

Lassiter ground his teeth together to keep from screaming at everyone in the car. Obviously it wasn't bad enough that he had to cart around three back seat drivers, he had to do it while tailing a collie- no pun intended.

"Why is she slowing down?" Gus suddenly asked, leaning between the seats to get a better look.

Lassiter elbowed him back, his patience wearing thinner and thinner by the second. "Well great, she took us to the park," he said in a falsely bright tone.

"Well this can't be it. Why is she stopping?" Juliet asked, watching as the dog dragged itself to a clump of bushes just off the sidewalk.

"Of course this isn't it!" Lassiter groaned. "This whole idea was ridiculous!"

Juliet ignored him as she climbed out of the car, followed by Gus and finally Henry. Lassiter opted to stay in the car and pretend he hadn't just tried to follow a dog. Sure a trained K9 could track a person and do it very well, but this was a frilly show dog. It was exact parallel to what Lassiter thought when they followed Spencer instead of traditional police work.

"Detective!"

"Carlton!"

With a roll of his eyes, Lassiter got out of his car and snapped the door shut. He approached Juliet and Henry, noticing that Gus had chosen to back up a few feet, face the opposite direction and begin Lamaze breathing.

Lassiter didn't blame him. The dog had obviously vomited, but that wasn't what grabbed his attention. A few small, tightly sealed packages had come up as well. Lassiter sighed heavily, knowing what he was about to say would cause great effort and pain.

"So Spencer was right about the dog."

Juliet gave him an exasperated look and stared back down at the collie that was lying on her side, breathing heavily and didn't look likely to move any time soon. "Well what now?"

"We've been following her for 20 minutes. This place has to be close." Henry looked around, his trained eyes scouting out possible locations where his son could have been taken. The hill they were on gave him a good vantage point, but also revealed how hopeless it was to try and pick any one spot to start looking. Houses lined the hill to his left and his right. A large empty field sprawled out in front of him. Beyond that was a warehouse district, a business park and then the beach.

Lassiter was calling in an update to the precinct over the radio in his car, asking for someone to come and collect the drugs and the dog. He glanced over as the collie suddenly barked out a painful cry, but continued his report until something white and fluffy nearly bowled into him and bolted across the street, taking off across the field. He and Juliet shared a brief confused look before they all piled back into the car and jumped the curb to take off after the collie.

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A/N: Remember to review!!


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Thanks so much for all your reviews. I did not forget about this fic. I'm just really slow at getting it out. I have had most of it written for about a month now. But here it is finally! My whump-loving side got the best of me...we'll see how that goes.

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Shawn cursed whatever evil mastermind invented duct tape. Sure it was the most effective repair tool since super glue, but it also doubled as an excellent gag. He was just recently of the opinion that duct tape should be manufactured so it wouldn't stick to human skin. He'd never be able to use it on Gus's bald head in a satisfying way anyways, and it would have also allowed him to breathe.

Shawn tried to relax, to draw breaths through his nose in a slow, even manner. His dad's voice was even screaming instructions at him from the back of his pounding brain, but the threat of being killed Braveheart style had more control over his body right now than he did. It didn't help that whatever bug he'd contracted made it difficult to get any air through his nose to begin with. It was like trying to breathe through a coffee straw. It was costing him more energy to breathe than was worth it. Maybe if he was lucky he would pass out from lack of oxygen before any sharp objects came into play…

As nice as that sounded, his panic was steadily building with every measly intake of air. Fighting the dizziness, Shawn rubbed his cheek on the ground, hoping the corner of the tape would catch, tearing if from his mouth, but the concrete floor was too slick.

"Stop struggling!" A sharp kick to Shawn's stomach came a second later. What little oxygen he did have in lungs was instantly knocked out. He wanted to gasp, but couldn't. It felt like drowning, only what little air he could suck in was teasing him, giving a taste of the surface, but not letting him reach it. Tears spilled from his eyes as he reflexively curled up, fighting the urge to gag. He wasn't sure which way of dying was worst; suffocation, choking on his own bile, or being torn open and having his innards ripped out. Actually, when he put it that way…

"Hey, Spencer!" A voice called. It wasn't his captors… a rescuer? Was he saved? He didn't have the energy to look up. Already, his vision was fading around the edges, slowing turning black.

"Hey, man." Well of course jacket-thief would be named Spencer, wouldn't he? That was just his luck, wasn't it? Could it get any worse?

Shawn took it back. These guys knew his kidnapper, so that made them the drug dealers who would want to get non-existent drugs from inside his body. He could be getting cut open any minute. That qualified as much worse.

He was willing himself to pass out now. He was right on the edge, just another minute…

"And who would this be, Mr. Cannon? I thought you said you found a willing person." Mike sighed disappointedly. Spencer Cannon. At least Spencer was his first name. It would have really been awkward to be threatened by someone he was related to. Actually, his dad had pretty much made that the norm.

"Yeah, I did. He recently changed his mind. Don't worry, Mike, he's still got 'em."

"Got 'em? It looks like he used them all in one hit." Mike's voice was hovering over Shawn now, looking him over with disgust. Shawn was too far gone to notice, tears steadily streaming from his eyes as he fought for air.

"I guarantee you he's got what you asked for, okay? I ain't never cheated you, man."

"I know you're good for it, Spence. I just need to be sure the packages didn't rupture or something. Wouldn't do me any good to drag this guy around waiting to find out and then end up with less than I paid you for. So no disrespect to you," Mike snapped, somewhat jarring Shawn back into semi-consciousness, "cut him open, Jeff."

_No! Don't cut him open, Jeff! _ Shawn's suddenly coherent mind screamed. Adrenaline flooded his system, overcoming the lack of oxygen as he renewed his hopeless struggle.

"Whoa, Mike!" Spencer Cannon cried. "You can't go killing the guy right here." Shawn was somewhat relieved. Shawn's kidnapper wouldn't let him be cut open until he had his money, or he'd be in just as much trouble as Shawn when they found out there were no drugs.

"Why not? You're skipping town, they can't get you. Plus he cheated you, right? Can't go on letting him die peacefully when you can teach him a lesson."

Kidnapper-Spencer hesitated, thinking of an excuse. "I want to see my money first."

Mike let out a dramatic breath. "What's the deal, Spence? I'm doing you a favor here."

"Let me see the money and you can go ahead. This guy wimped out on me, I just want to make sure you haven't." Shawn winced. He wouldn't go calling the sadistic drug dealer a wimp. Then again if his kidnapper kept up the taunting, he very well might be cut open before Shawn. For once, he wasn't being the stupid Spencer here.

"Fine." Another snap echoed around the empty building. Another precious minute went by as the money was presented before he spoke again. "There. Happy? Can we move on with this?"

Shawn squeezed his eyes shut. There was no answer. A rough hand grabbed his shoulder a second later, flipping Shawn onto his back. He stared up at what was probably the biggest man he had ever seen in his life holding a large, vicious looking knife. The man pulled up his shirt brought the blade down toward his stomach as Shawn tried to writhe out of the way, but a massive hand held his weakening frame in place, releasing him only to land a bone-crushing punch to his face. Blood poured from Shawn's nose as the man resumed preparing for his carving responsibilities. Completely dazed and now lacking any means of obtaining oxygen, Shawn started slipping away.

"Careful not to puncture the stuff, Jeff."

"I got it," The Hulk grunted as the cold blade made contact with Shawn's bare skin. Like being shocked, it brought his senses back from the brink of shutting off, just in time to feel the blade sink in. He let out a muffled scream.

"Hey- SPENCER!" Mike suddenly cried.

Frantic footsteps reverberated around the warehouse as Cannon grabbed the suitcase full of money and bolted for the door. The blade was retracted as the giant man took off after him. Shots were fired. Shouts echoed off the walls. All Shawn noticed was the blissful darkness finally taking him.

Detective Lassiter screeched to a halt as the collie disappeared through a loading bay door into the large warehouse that loomed over them. A black Escalade was parked just yards away.

"This has to be it." Juliet said excitedly, pulling her gun out of her holster as she looked to her partner for directions.

He nodded, pushing aside the embarrassment of having been led here by a non-police commissioned dog. He was reaching for the radio to call in for backup when an all too familiar sound reached his ears- gunshots. Lassiter and Juliet exchanged looks before throwing open their doors, weapons at the ready.

Henry did the same behind him, but Lassiter immediately kicked the door shut. "Stay here and call for backup!" He ordered. Not looking back to make sure he was obeyed, Lassiter, with Juliet hot on his heels, ran for the warehouse, moving quickly, but staying low.

They reached the open door and took cover just to the side of it. A few more rounds went off, followed by indecipherable shouting. Lassiter craned his neck to look inside. Three men were running away from his position. One had what looked like a knife while another was firing haphazard shots toward a third man running away.

"SBPD, FREEZE!" Lassiter cried, stepping into the warehouse. The man with the knife stopped and turned, reaching for something under his jacket. A second later he was on the ground, one of Lassiter's bullets lodged in his chest.

The second man was still running, but in another direction. "Freeze!" Lassiter cried again, but the man didn't falter. Juliet was already on the chase, heels and all. Lassiter took off after her and realized in horror what the man was doing. The man dived to the ground, dragging what looked like a human form into his arms as a shield.

Juliet stopped dead in her tracks, realizing the body was that of Shawn Spencer. It was scary enough to see him so still. The blood covering his face just made it worse. Her heart pounded, but training forced her to swallow the shock.

"Come any closer and I'll kill him!" The man cried. "Drop your guns, now!"

Juliet slowly lowered her weapon even though she had the terrible impression that Shawn was already dead. She reluctantly let her gun clatter to the floor and glanced at her partner. Lassiter was slower to comply, but a quick jab of the man's gun into Shawn's temple had him moving much faster. "Just let him go." Lassiter coaxed, still holding his gun at his side.

The man was struggling to stand, carrying the deadweight in his arms. "Oh no," he huffed, "he's coming with me." As Shawn was dragged along, Juliet noticed the growing red stain on the psychic's shirt. Lassiter caught it as well and his grip on his weapon tightened.

"I said drop the gun!" The man cried, adjusting his grip to point his gun back at Shawn. A sudden loud noise broke the unsteady silence. It took Juliet a few seconds to realize it was a bark. The white furry missile came out of nowhere, slamming into the man. Shawn fell in a heap to the floor as his former captor scrambled to his feet, forgetting his gun as he struggled to get away from the dog now nipping at his heels. Every way he turned, the dog was there, steadily backing him up.

Lassiter found himself watching in about as near to shock as Carlton Lassiter could get as the collie that had led them here efficiently herded the perp into a corner. He quickly shook himself as he remembered his gun and approached the now whimpering kidnapper, striding past the growling dog to arrest him.

Juliet was oblivious to the goings on behind her. She had immediately rushed toward Shawn's lifeless form. A quick flick of her knife cut the bindings on his hands and she rolled him onto his back, feeling for a pulse. She pressed her fingers against his clammy neck harder when she couldn't feel one. "Come on, Shawn." She muttered desperately. There it was…a weak one, and too slow. Juliet quickly realized a steady pulse wasn't the only thing missing. Where Shawn's chest should have been rising, there was complete stillness.

She frantically ripped the duct tape from his mouth. When he didn't immediately draw in air, she tilted his head back, pinched his swelling nose shut and clamped her lips over his, starting mouth to mouth. _You better live to gloat about this, _Juliet muttered between breaths, watching his chest for movement. She pushed more air into his lungs and was pulling back when a strangled cough escaped Shawn's mouth. He immediately gasped for air before dissolving into a coughing fit.

Juliet sighed in relief, surprised at the sting of unshed tears in her eyes as she pulled his head into her lap and held him as the hacking coughs became weaker and finally stopped. "You're okay, Shawn." She soothed.

Lassiter was suddenly at her side. "I can't find the third perp. Backup is two minutes out. He okay?" he asked, looking over the police consultant's battered body. An ugly looking laceration on his forehead had caked nearly the entire right side of his face in drying blood, his nose was still streaming the crimson liquid and the red spot on his shirt hadn't stopped growing yet.

Juliet had forced herself back into cop mode as she answered. "He wasn't breathing. I did mouth to mouth."

"Don't let him hear you say that." Lassiter muttered, pulling up the bloody shirt to reveal a deep gash. He slipped off his jacket and pressed it against the wound, eliciting a low groan from the psychic. "Spencer, open your eyes." He ordered, though it lacked the usual bite he reserved just for the young consultant. "Spencer!"

Shawn didn't even have the voice to moan as he became acutely aware of every gash, bruise and ache that came with being conscious. He let out a breath that sounded more like a whimper and winced as his raw throat protested against any sort of noise making whatsoever. Something wasn't right… he was supposed to be asleep. Yeah, that way he could get away from the sadistic psycho and his side-kick Fezzik, and don't forget twisted jacket-thief. They were gonna slice him up. From the feel of it, they had already started. His stomach felt like it was being seared with a hot poker. He had to get back to sleep, then they would stop…

"Spencer!"

He almost responded, but stopped himself from getting his hopes up again. Jacket-thief's other name was Spencer…Spencer something… He didn't have time to think, he had to sleep!

"Come on." Was that a woman's voice? "Open your eyes."

They were trying to trick him into being awake. That was it. But then he realized who the voice belonged to… Jules? He had to be dreaming, but then why did he hurt so much? Every breath was like swallowing fire. "Shawn."

Not Spencer…Shawn. That was him. Jules wouldn't trick him, would she? "Wh'me?" The weak rasp was too much for his abused throat and he coughed again, causing his stomach to explode in pain as his severed muscles tensed.

"Yes you, you idiot." A familiar voice growled. "See any other moronic psychics around here? ... Spencer? Spencer, stop!" Lassiter fought to keep pressure on the struggling psychic's abdomen as he tried to curl up, crying out pathetically. "O'Hara!"

Juliet maneuvered around to press down on Shawn's shoulders, trying to keep him down without hurting him. His hands tried to shove her off, but they were too weak to do any real damage. She felt his chest lurch every few seconds as Shawn drew a hitched breath. They immediately started coming faster and shallower. His hand latched onto her wrist as his face contorted into an agonized expression.

They were stabbing him all over again, driving countless knives into his stomach coinciding with every breath he took. The agony eased infinitesimally when he didn't breathe, but anything would be better than this. The pain-induced haze over his brain made for questionable logic, but it was all he had. The relief lasted about a second before the panic of not being able to breathe slammed over him again. He gasped for air and cried out as the knives dug deeper into his flesh.

Caught between the need for air and the torture it caused, fresh tears of frustration and anguish spilled from his eyes.

The crushing pressure on his abdomen never eased up in the slightest, but the force holding down his shoulders suddenly withdrew, replaced by a single hand on the center of his chest. "Shawn, you need to breathe, kid. Come on."

The familiar voice provided more comfort than Shawn could have imagined. Of course that might have been because his dad hadn't used that tone with him since he was 12 and broke his arm. But even though he agreed with the thought that breathing was a wonderful thing, yet again, his dad just didn't understand. The little daggers waited for him to inhale, that's when they attacked. What his dad doing there to begin with? Had his attackers let him in? Was his brain just tricking him into hearing his voice because he so desperately needed any assurance that someone cared? "Dad-?" Shawn croaked, earning himself another round of hacking coughs that viciously tore him apart from the inside. Another trick, causing more tears, practically sobbing now, doing nothing to help, but instead encouraging the knives to dig deeper.

Henry watched almost helplessly as his son dissolved back into a helpless little kid. He exchanged looks with Lassiter who looked increasingly uncomfortable. He purposefully avoided looking at Gus who was hovering somewhere next to O'Hara. Henry looked back down at his suffering child and set himself. His son was breaking down uncontrollably, so he needed to get control.

"Time to focus, Buddy." He said for the benefit of both himself and Shawn. The very word his son cursed him for using so often seemed to strike an attentive chord for once and the lines of frustration on his face seemed to soften somewhat. Henry recalled that traces of opiates had been found at the Psych office, remnants of what had been used to drug to his son before he was taken. The drug's disorienting effects probably served to cause frightening delusions in an already concussed brain. It would explain Shawn's violent refusal to accept help from them. Pain explained the rest.

Henry gripped his son's hand and replaced his hand high on Shawn's chest, gently shaking it. "You feel my hand here, Shawn? Breathe right here." He didn't feel anything for a few seconds. "Focus, Shawn. Breathe." Henry felt a trembling, almost hesitant breath enter Shawn's lungs, then another, developing into a shaky, but constant rhythm. He sighed in relief as he saw the tension leave his son's body, "Good work, Kid. Good work."

* * *

A/N: There is ONE more chapter after this to wrap it all up. I did leave some unanswered questions which I have not forgotten about, I promise. :D Everyone enjoy the finale tonight! It's gonna be SICK! (that's sick in a good way for everyone not from the west coast.)


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: First of all, I had to put up a physical fight to get this chapter uploaded. I don't know why this site hates me right now...probably because I took so long to update? Sorry!!! Life is busy...and when its at its busiest, I write...go figure. But here it is...the final installment. Thanks so much for sticking with me through my numerous long breaks! Special thanks to those who took the time to review. I so very much appreciate it!! So here it is, to wrap it all up.

* * *

If you had told Lassiter that he would be ending this day trapped in an interrogation room with a dog, he would have scoffed, asked how much Spencer had paid you to say that, and then, more likely than not, he would have shot you for being so ridiculous. However, as the Santa Barbara Police Department's head detective sat uncomfortably in a metal chair, staring at the panting collie in front of him, he wished someone had told him. That way, he could have shot himself hours ago, saving him from this humiliation.

"Alright, I'm all done here, detective." Dr. Hill said, packing up his things. "She should be fine now. The girl just needs a good rest."

Lassiter was snapped from his thoughts which were filled with ideas about how to get Buzz assigned to this menial task instead of him. Unfortunately, Mcnab's cat was deathly afraid of dogs and the stupid mutt had developed some sort of bond with Lassiter, following him around despite his warnings of euthanasia. "Thank you. You can leave your report with the front desk."

The veterinarian gave a polite nod and left the room, leaving Lassiter to finish off a staring contest with the mutt. Lassiter lost. Grumbling and cursing his fate, the detective hooked a leash to the animal's collar. "Let's go, mutt."

The collie stood and stared up at him obediently.

"Don't you dare try to get on my good side." Lassiter growled. The collie seemed to smile at him in defiance.

"Detective Lassiter." Chief Vick was obviously hiding a smile as she exited her office to speak with him. "What's the word?"

"She's fine. I don't see why I have to-."

"Now, Detective, this dog is a material witness _and_ a damning piece of evidence. One of those men is still out there. I would hate to see something happen to her."

Lassiter was hardly one to argue with direct orders, but this situation was definite grounds for discussion. "That doesn't explain why she has to stay with me…at my house."

"She's sick." Vick shrugged, her eyes bright with a kind of mirth that almost frightened the detective. "She's also quite the hero. A cold kennel doesn't suit her. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, ma'am." Lassiter conceded, glancing down at the mutt which was staring up at him with the same delighted look. Curse Spencer and his hair-brained theories which almost always turned out to be right… he'd rather be stuck with the dinosaur.

*

"Argh! Lassie is probably getting better treatment than me!"

Henry just stood over his son, arms folded, as he listened to the hoarse ranting. He almost appreciated the fact that Shawn could only manage to raise his voice slightly above a whisper or he would have been tempted to smother the child.

Just being able to muster those thoughts back was a good sign to Henry. Mere hours ago, he'd been regretting every slightly less than praiseworthy comment he'd ever made to his son. Seeing his child in a total state of panic, unable to draw breath seemed to have that effect on him. Thankfully he was back to thinking slightly less than violent thoughts about Shawn and was grateful for every lesson he'd taught him that could have had a hand in saving his life.

"I don't know about that. The chief has ordered Carlton to take protective custody of her." Juliet explained with a smile as she walked into the hospital room.

Shawn's face instantly lit up. There was a glint in his eye, whether from the drugs or something else, Juliet wasn't sure. Either way, seeing Shawn with some actual color to his face, whining in a somewhat coherent manner lifted her spirits considerably. She'd been hesitant about visiting, but once the chief had saddled Lassiter with the dog, she'd stuck Juliet with the joint task of getting Shawn's statement and heading his protective detail.

"Jules!" Shawn's voice cracked as he called her name, but his smile didn't falter. "Gee, I can't imagine who is more upset with that arrangement…"

"You'd be surprised." Juliet grinned.

"Detective," Henry interrupted, causing her and Shawn to look away from each other. "Can I have a word?"

"Of course." Juliet nodded, following the elder Spencer into the far corner.

"Do you have any leads on where this guy may be?" Henry asked in an urgent whisper.

"None so far-."

"Mr. Spencer?" Gus said in a voice that clearly stated it was Shawn asking him to interrupt, and not himself. He valued his life and limbs more than that.

"What?" Henry snapped, his eyes instantly going to Shawn.

"Who is it?" Shawn asked. He ended up having to ask it twice and Henry couldn't actually hear him the first time.

"Who's who?"

"The guy that got away."

Juliet and Henry exchanged looks. "How do you know that, Shawn?" Juliet asked curiously.

"There are like, 5 uniforms out there. I know I'm popular at the office, but they're not coming in to say hi, so I figure they're working. It's kind of dumb to keep it from me, dad, the guy who saw the bad guys." Talking so much was irritating his throat again and he stifled a painful cough. It almost hurt more than just letting it out. Almost. But basically everything he did was aggravating the giant hole in his abdomen. Stifling it turned out to be a very bad idea as it did nothing to relieve his throat and instead incited more coughing. This time he let it out and consequently prayed for death.

As the attack subsided, he became aware of the warm hand on his shoulder and looked up into the face of his father. "This is why I didn't tell you, kid."

"Because somehow being sick makes me useless as a witness?" Shawn rasped.

"Shawn," he looked up to see Juliet giving him a reproving look. "Shh."

He obediently, but reluctantly agreed, if for no other reason than that he was afraid of provoking another attack. It also helped that she had been the one who asked…

"Shawn, you had a panic attack at that warehouse that nearly killed you." Henry explained as Shawn diverted his gaze to look anywhere but at the three other people in the room. "When Detective O'Hara found you, you weren't breathing at all."

Shawn locked eyes with Juliet for a brief second before she looked away, blushing furiously. He finally looked back at his dad, making sure to speak as close to a whisper as possible, "What does that have to do with-?"

"We didn't tell you because we didn't know what could trigger another panic attack." Henry continued, ignoring his son's interruption.

Shawn studied his dad's face. There were emotions hidden underneath that top layer of disapproval that told him more than words ever could. Concern was definitely one of them…fear was another. That alone was almost enough to send Shawn into a panic. He didn't remember much of anything that had happened in the last four hours, but whatever had happened was enough to scare his dad, Henry Spencer, the best detective Santa Barbara had ever seen.

Shawn had no idea how to deal with that. So he dealt with it like he did everything else that he didn't know how to deal with. He ignored it.

"Clearly, I'm not panicking now. Just tell me Goliath wasn't the one who got away."

Juliet cleared her throat, wishing the awkward weight in the air would clear just as easily. "If you mean Jeffrey Casey, no. We also have a Michael Payne in custody. From prints we found out the fugitive's name is Joel Barker."

As she said the names, images of the men flashed simultaneously in front of his eyes. Jeff with the knife, Mike with the gun… and then jacket thief. "Spencer." Shawn murmured.

Henry raised a concerned eyebrow, worried his son might still be suffering effects from the drugs he'd been injected with. "What?"

"Cannon. That's his name, alias, I guess. Spencer Cannon. Lassie bit him a few times, so you should check clinics and hospitals."

Juliet nodded and hurried out the door to call the Chief.

Shawn looked around as if suddenly noticing he was in a hospital. Gus had the same reaction. "So by hospital…" Gus started, trailing off as he glanced at Shawn. "But that's what the cops outside are for… and the two other hospitals and countless clinics in Santa Barbara."

Shawn smirked. Gus was afraid of scaring him. "If it makes you feel better, Buddy, I don't think he's coming to visit. He wanted out of here as soon as possible. He's just gonna run."

"Good work, Shawn." Henry nodded.

His son gave him a look of shock and surprise which slowly faded to a smile. They both knew by 'good work,' Henry was saying much more.

*

"You sure you really want to be here?" Gus sighed as he unlocked the Psych office door.

"Of course." Shawn scoffed, ignoring the faint twinge it caused in his stomach. While being almost completely symptom free from whatever illness had ailed him, the infected stomach laceration wasn't quite healed yet. "We're still broke after paying all those overdue fees. It's time to open up the office again and attract all those poor spouses of adultering fiends and their money. Besides, if I have to spend one more day at my dad's, I'm going to go insane."

Gus just rolled his eyes as he flipped on the lights and slid behind his desk to work on some paperwork he needed for his route. Henry had let Shawn leave, but only with explicit instructions to Gus to make sure he didn't do anything stupid, and that he was the first call he made if anything suspicious showed up. They weren't so worried about Cannon anymore as all evidence pointed to the fact that he was long gone and had no intention of returning, but there was always the chance, and Henry was not one to be caught off guard.

"Dude, we got a new couch?" Shawn cocked his head and studied the new piece of furniture which had taken the place of the now absent loveseat.

Gus shrugged, not having noticed it. "I didn't buy it." He panicked for a brief second, but it didn't seem very plausible that Cannon would spring for a couch for the man who he'd kidnapped.

Shawn found a card sitting on the armrest and read it silently, his face splitting into a grin.

"What's it say?" Gus asked, getting up to look over his shoulder.

Shawn snapped it shut. "Nothing."

"You're not smiling at nothing. What's it say?" Gus demanded, trying to snatch the card from his friend.

"Uh uh, I'm injured. You can't touch me." Shawn warned and Gus stopped in a huff.

"That's not fair."

"Fine," Shawn smirked, covering up half the card and flashing it at his friend. "Lassie says, 'don't get blood on this one.'"

"Lassiter bought us a couch?" Gus asked disbelievingly.

"And Jules." Shawn shrugged. "I think she made him chip in."

"Probably to apologize for not believing you."

"Or to thank me for giving him the best pet ever." Shawn grinned. "Who knew they would get along so well?"

"Not him." Gus said with raised eyebrows. "So what did Jules say?"

"Nothing."

"Shawn…" A knock at the door cut Gus off from threatening him.

"Can you get that?" Shawn asked with a sweet smile as he plopped down on the couch, admiring its soft cushions. "It's like sitting on a giant marshmallow, Gus!"

His best friend just rolled his eyes as he opened the door. A small well-dressed man was standing there, looking up at him. "I'm looking for a Shawn Spencer."

"Uh, yeah. Come in." Gus stepped aside and motioned to Shawn who was stretched across the couch, rereading the card. Gus cleared his throat loudly, making Shawn look up.

"How can I help you?" He asked brightly.

"I came to repay you. I did promise." The man flashed brilliant white teeth as he smiled.

Shawn sat up suddenly as recognition set in. "George!"

"Sorry it took me so long, but I couldn't seem to get a hold of you. Anyways, here you go." George held out what looked like a check to Shawn who took it as memories flooded back into his brain. "You really helped me out, kid, so I added some interest there."

"Oh well, thank you." Shawn smiled, standing up to shake the man's hand. "I was happy to help."

"Thank _you, _Shawn." George nodded, smiled at Gus and left without another word.

"Shawn…" Gus said once the door had shut. "Who was that?"

"Don't be silly, that was George." Shawn said. His eyes suddenly widened as he read the amount on the check. "Wow, talk about interest."

"Yes, I got that." Gus grabbed the check and looked like he was about to pass out. "What is this for?!"

"Remember all that money I 'lost'?" Shawn said with a proud smile. "I didn't lose it. It just slipped my mind because I was totally and completely wasted when I gave it all to that guy."

"And again, I ask, who is he?"

"George Williams. He's some big shot lawyer. He got stranded at the same bar I happened to be at in Mexico. He was in a pretty embarrassing situation I guess and didn't want to call home for money, lest the press catch wind and ruin his reputation, so I spotted him some cash… Why are you giving me that look? You should be happy! Our money's back!"

"You gave all our money to a complete stranger. How did you know you could trust him?"

"I didn't. But like I said, I was trashed." Shawn shrugged. "Guess even then I have some pretty good judgment. I just made bank off that guy." He grinned. "So…now comes the mystery of your money. Donate it to the charity fund to help recovering comic enthusiasts, did you?"

Gus just glared at him, his expression unchanging.

"Oh come on, Gus. You can tell me." Shawn said with an encouraging slap on the shoulder.

Gus sighed. "You can't tell anyone, Shawn. Promise me."

"Of course, Buddy." Shawn said.

"Uncross your fingers."

Shawn rolled his eyes and brought his hand from behind his back. "Fine."

With a nervous look, Gus led Shawn to the back of the office and stopped in front of an unused closet.

"You…have a body in here?" Shawn asked with a raised eyebrow.

Gus opened the closet door. Shawn shielded his eyes from the sudden explosion of pink. It was like the objects inside were emitting their own light source. "What is this, Gus?!" He cried in horror.

"The guy was really convincing okay? He told me they would be collector's items in less than a year, worth ten times their current value!"

"But Hannah Montana? Seriously? My dignity just ran for cover."

"It's an investment, Shawn." Gus defended. "She's very popular."

"This is getting padlocked, possibly with numerous incendiary devices inside. But first," Shawn lifted his phone and snapped a picture. "This is going all over facebook."

Gus made a grab for the phone, but Shawn held it out of reach. "You promised, Shawn!"

"I was crossing my toes."

"Toes don't count! Since when have toes counted?" Gus cried, stalking toward Shawn who backed up.

"Since we were seven and made a pact on it."

"We rescinded that when we were 13!"

"I don't remember that." Shawn said innocently. Gus made another grab for it. "Hey, remember, injured?"

"Oh I'll injure you alright." Gus growled, lunging for his former best friend. Shawn screamed and leapt over the coffee table.

Juliet O'Hara almost reached for her gun on hearing the scream, but withdrew her hand once the details of the argument reached her ears. Instead she laughed. It was good to have him back. She was going to knock, to talk to him, but she stopped herself for some reason. It had set her emotions into a tailspin, having him gone, then suddenly back, then almost gone again…forever.

Juliet dropped her hand and set the pineapple on the ground in front of the Psych door. She could be patient. Maybe she was being hasty anyways. Everything would calm down again and go back to how it was. She was just grateful to have her friend back and that was all she needed…for now at least.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, I left it open on purpose...I may write a sequel. I'll make sure to write it all before i update of course. :D Please review! And thanks again to everyone, I had a blast writing this and getting your feedback!


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